


the country of the mockingbird

by ont



Series: mockingbird [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Arguing, Awkward Tension, Bitterness, Canon Compliant, Custody Battle, Dirty Talk, Discussion of Abortion, Domestic, Drunken Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endgame Liam Payne/Louis Tomlinson, Endgame Zayn Malik/Harry Styles, Eventual Happy Ending, Family Drama, Jealousy, Kid Fic, Long-Term Relationship(s), Louis-centric, Love Triangle, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Mpreg, Mpreg Louis, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), POV Louis, Pining, Planned Pregnancy, Post-Canon, Post-Zayn One Direction, Pregnancy, Reconciliation, Rectangle of jealousy, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Substance Abuse, Therapy, Trying To Conceive, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unrequited Love, Wordcount: Over 100.000, a decade of mutual zarry pining, a/b/o for people who don't like a/b/o, baby daddy drama, longfic, marital discord, otra, saga, stepdad Liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 117,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7139375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ont/pseuds/ont
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Louis pulls the awful bouquet from its cup and rinses the tests off in the sink. He tries not to look at them as he does, but he sees that the top one is a positive and draws a choked breath.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>He fans them out, one after another, like a bad hand of cards.</i>
  <br/>
</p><p>
Zayn leaves One Direction, and, unbeknownst to either of them, leaves behind a pregnant Louis as well. In his time of need, Louis turns to Liam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Louis conceives on April 5, 2015, entirely because he and Zayn are too lazy to find a rubber.

They've been sleeping together for about three months. Louis should have known this was a death knell, an omen signaling Zayn’s departure. The band has all been so careful about _not_ sleeping with each other; they'd all agreed they didn't want to be another Fleetwood Mac. Zayn and Harry had an ill-advised liaison early on, which ended partially due to Harry's fear that people would find out he's an omega -- not an alpha, as their management has tried to imply for years through careful branding. He had moved on to affairs with more anonymous persons, and that was the last time any of them had gotten together. After all, they knew better.

(Unlike Harry, Louis was able to avoid any lies of omission: he'd been branded _the omega one_ from the outset of the band. The cute, curvy, funny little omega with the gorgeous, tall alpha girlfriend. That classification had served him well for marketing purposes, even after he and Eleanor got bored of each other and started straying in equal measure.)

In January of 2015, Zayn starts showing his depression. He’s anemic toward the new music the band is working on, and he and Perrie have hit the skids. They were a PR fix-up to begin with, two headstrong alphas who chafed in each other’s care.

Zayn begins to talk more and more about life after the band, especially when he and Louis smoke. Louis is scared shitless by that topic, by Zayn’s new attitude in general, so one night he flicks the roach into the trash and does one of the things he's quite good at: he seduces.

Zayn is surprised, and he pretends at hesitancy, but in truth he's been attracted to Louis for years and vice versa. That first night they fuck hard and desperately on the floor of a hotel room, smoke all in the air around them, and Zayn cries out Louis’ name as he comes. They kiss for an hour afterward.

Louis feels vindicated, victorious. He becomes an endless well for Zayn’s angst, medicating all of his nighttime woes. He and Zayn talk at length, and if talking doesn’t solve it, he takes him to bed; his body is a vessel for the poison inside Zayn. He’s the careful mouth, sucking the snakebites.

On his own end, Louis is utterly absorbed in work. He can’t slow down long enough to even begin to feel the sort of ennui that Zayn’s experiencing. He and Liam have gotten a great start on the fifth album, and touring is as punishing as ever. Free from Eleanor, he fucks random alpha women in clubs, who stick their fingers in his mouth and squeeze his arse. He's hurtling headlong through the days, having the time of his life. Louis keeps telling himself that if anyone can pull this off, it’s him and Zayn. He has faith that they’re both wily, canny and promiscuous enough not to let this get too complicated or serious. He rationalizes that this is what’s needed to keep the band together -- that if he can give this to Zayn, he won’t leave them. He thinks if he can just drag Zayn’s busted-up psyche through the rest of this year, the five of them can stay intact.

Louis is utterly and devastatingly wrong about all of this. April 5 is the last time the two of them ever have sex.

They're in the back of bus one, smoking as always. Zayn is bitching about something a rag wrote about him cheating.

“And I can't even defend myself,” he says. “Can't even say, hey, look, we aren't even really together anymore, bruv. It's a fuckin’ joke, a fuckin’ game, it’s corporate synergy is all it is.”

“Zayn, just leave it, it's pointless…”

“I know,” Zayn says, shaking his head, his face cold.

“D’you want to fuck?” Louis says, profoundly stoned, flicking the spent roach across the table.

Zayn does want to fuck, despite the fact that no rubber is produced or discovered. Louis is on a pill, but he takes it more erratically than he should.

“You can just pull out,” he murmurs to Zayn as they fuck lazily there on the couch, hurtling swiftly down the road to Dubai International Airport.

Zayn nods, and kisses him.

He does pull out, with plenty of time to spare. He comes into a flannel and discards it, then sucks Louis’ cock with his lovely mouth, and they lie there for a while. They hold each other, each thinking about vastly different things.

Louis will wonder, in the coming months and years, what exactly happened. If Zayn had masturbated too soon beforehand, if he had pulled out just moments too late. If some higher power had seen the opportunity for comedy -- had seen the nasty plans brewing in Zayn’s gorgeous head, and allowed one single determined sperm swim up Louis’ arse and straight to his uterus.

 

*

 

Zayn announces his departure from the tour on April 15, the same day he stops responding to calls and texts from everyone in the band. He announces his departure from the band on April 20.

Louis can't stop vomiting the morning of May 31.

Bent over the toilet, he mentally flips through a list of explanations: stress, food poisoning, hangover.

He’s aware, though, that he's been nauseous and wanting to puke for weeks. This is the first time since it started that he's allowed himself to actually do so. And what lasts for weeks, other than stress? He's never vomited from stress before. Food poisoning, yes. Hangovers, yes, he gets appalling hangovers.

Fear bubbles up in him. The fear’s got teeth, and sharp edges. It’s metallic in his mouth under the taste of bile.

He texts his assistant, Christina.

_go to the chemist.  pick up five pregnancy tests_

She texts back, _???!_

 _Just do it_ , he responds, hands shaking, and lies on his side on the bathroom floor, his forehead resting against the cool tile.

 

*

 

By the time she gets there, he's done the mental math. He could be as far as eight weeks along.

At his hotel room door, Christina whispers urgently to him, “Louis, what's up, what's going on?”

“Just stay at the door and don't let anyone in,” he tells her, grabbing the plastic bag from her hand. She looks alarmed by his behavior, so he says “thanks, love” before he shuts the door in her face.

Louis tears the packages apart with his teeth, pisses into a plastic cup and then jams all the tests into said cup like some sort of grotesque bouquet. He sets it down hard and walks away, hands in his hair, trying to convince himself that he's lost it. He can't be pregnant.

He can't be pregnant.

At some cellular, molecular level of his body, he already knows he is.

Louis sits on the floor, drinking an entire bottle of water for lack of anything else to do. When the timer on his phone goes off, he leaps to his feet and takes his gallows walk into the bathroom.

He looks at himself in the mirror. Sweating, starkly pale, his blue eyes grayish in the yellow light. He tries to tell if his face has gotten puffier at all, and if it has, if it's possibly reasonable to chalk it up to stress or bad sleep or last night’s hamburger. He looks at himself from the side and pulls his shirt tight against his skin. He doesn't see anything.

Louis pulls the awful bouquet from its cup and rinses the tests off in the sink. He tries not to look at them as he does, but he sees that the top one is a positive and draws a choked breath.

He fans them out, one after another, like a bad hand of cards. Plus sign. Line. PREGNANT. Plus sign. And then that awful red line again. Five brands, all telling him the same thing.

Louis throws them. They clatter against the mirror. Then he calmly goes out into his room, and punches a hole in the sheetrock wall.

He examines it with a numb detachment, then kicks another hole beneath it for good measure.

Christina pounds on the door, and the knob rattles. “Are you _alright_ , Louis?” she calls.

“Fine,” he shouts.

There's silence.

“Can I... get you something?” she finally says, apprehensively.

“Bring Liam here,” Louis says, and begins to shake again. His eyes get hot, and he blinks hard. “I need Liam.”

“Right,” she says. “Back in a jiff.”

Louis nods. He goes back into the bathroom and vomits one final time. It’s nothing but foamy bile.

 

*

 

Once he's got Liam in his room, seated on the bed and waiting to be told, the problem feels that much more real and accordingly that much more terrifying. Liam has already been brought to a peak of worried concern by the holes in the wall, Christina’s demeanor, and increasingly by Louis’ demeanor as Louis paces in front of him, trying to come up with the words to say it.

“You can tell me anything,” Liam pleads with him. “Literally anything.”

“I know, lad, I know,” Louis says, and drops down into a squat, hands over his eyes.

“Louis,” Liam says softly, getting off the bed and crouching next to him, putting a hand between his shoulder blades. “Louis, c’mon…”

Liam pulls him into a hug. His face buried against Liam’s chest, Louis finally says it out loud.

“I think I'm, ah. I think I’m pregnant.”

Liam freezes for a long moment.

He reaches up and strokes Louis’ hair, rather hard. “Fuck, mate. Holy fuck. You sure?”

“Five tests, all positive.”

“You've got to get the blood test,” Liam says, jumping into crisis-solving mode.

“I know, I know. I haven't had time yet. I realized I might be, I sent Christina out, I took them, they were all positive --”

Someone lets out a dry sob. Louis realizes with a start that it was him.

Liam shushes him, continuing to stroke his hair. “Okay. Alright. Let's do whatever you need to do, then.”

“I need an abortion,” Louis says weakly. “‘S the only thing I can do.”

“Whatever you need, Tommo. I'm here, I've got you, I'll be by your side.”

Louis closes his eyes, trying to shut everything out besides Liam’s steady touch and the repeating thud of his heartbeat through his chest, against the side of Louis’ jaw. “Right.”

“Who…” Liam trails off. Louis wonders about the missing back half of his sentence. “... Did this?”, maybe.

Louis is silent. He aches deeply in his chest, and his mouth is dry. Liam didn't even know he and Zayn were sleeping together, and Zayn is an incredibly sore subject within the band, lately.

“It's not… couldn't be Eleanor, could it?”

Louis laughs.

“Hey, but listen -- you do know alpha women, you’ve got to watch out with them,” Liam says, sounding uncomfortable with the concept. “It’s not just girls they can get pregnant, you know? They’ve got sperm in their, like, their -- you know --”

Louis laughs harder. “You're aces at dirty talk, you know that? I haven't had sex with Eleanor since last year, so unless I'm takin’ properly forever to start showin’ --”

“ _Any_ of them can do it, Louis. They finger themselves, then they finger you --”

“Yeah, I’ve had sex ed, lad! Look, there's only one person it can be,” Louis says. He sits back from Liam and pulls his knees to his chest, his arms draped around them.

“So you know for sure, then,” Liam says. “That's one thing, right? That's good?”

Louis lets out an airy chuckle that doesn't sound like him. “Not good, really,” he says. “Bit shit, to be honest.”

“It's not like… Oli, is it?” Liam says. “I think I'd have to report him to HR --”

Louis laughs rather hard at that. “God, no…”

He gets up and walks away, toward the window, and looks out over Wales.

“You'll want to wring his neck, Payno,” Louis mutters.

“Sort of already do, whoever it is,” Liam says, and moves to sit on the bed, looking up at him. Louis turns.

“It's...” he starts. He goes to fix his shirt and accidentally brushes his hand across his stomach. Liam laser focuses his gaze in on that gesture, and Louis drops his hands limply to his sides. His palms are clammy.

“It's Zayn,” Louis says, briefly wishing for a  quick death, wishing for the earth to open and swallow him, tip to toe.

Liam’s face goes ashen, and he leans sideways like he's light-headed. He grips the covers.

“Okay,” he says, sounding as not-okay as Louis has ever heard him sound. “Uh. Right. Okay.”

Louis is mortified, but he feels better for having gotten it out, like he’s exorcised himself.

“You and him, you were --?” Liam chews on his lip. “You were… Right. That makes sense, I suppose. Sort of explains -- you've been quite angry at him for leaving… Not that we all haven’t been, I mean, but you’ve been in rare form --”

As this information sinks in, Liam gets an unfathomably sad look, like the implications of Zayn’s paternity are steadily unfolding in his mind.

“I fucked up,” Louis says, and then to his great horror, he starts crying. Liam gets up to comfort him and Louis waves him back down, shaking his head.

“I thought I could keep him on the tour, like,” Louis says, tears streaming freely down his face. “Thought he just needed more attention, that ‘e was just sad, or summat -- this is so fucking stupid. He's still gone, and --” Louis sucks in a breath. “I'm pregnant! He's _gone_ , ‘e's fucked off, he's being an arsehole somewhere with Shahid, and I'm fuckin’ --”

He wants to throw something, then, so he turns and grabs the TV remote and heaves it at the kitchen area, where it hits the counter and shatters.

“-- _pregnant…_ That _fucker_ ,” Louis screams, tears hot on his face. “That absolute prick, that motherfucker, cunt, arsehole, piece of shit, how could he --”

Liam comes up from behind him and wraps his arms around Louis, who turns and sobs openly against his chest and shoulders.

Liam kisses his head and strokes his back and thankfully, blessedly, says nothing at all.

 

*

 

The next thing to do, Liam helpfully reminds him, is to get a blood test and confirm.

The first next thing, of course, is to tell Christina that she is right in surmising that the many pregnancy tests she purchased were for Louis and his meltdown indicated he used them and got straight positives.

Christina maintains a remarkably neutral expression as she says, “Okay. Let’s start figuring this out, then.”

She turns on her heel and goes straight to tell his news to intrepid new tour manager Sam, who presumably allows himself a moment to black out from terror and panic before he flies a discreet doctor out from London, one Modest trusts and has used before.

It's a bit like using a mob doctor, Louis thinks. She draws his blood right there in his hotel room.

She's perfectly nice, though, and gives him a butterscotch candy out of her coat when she's got the sample and has sent it off with the nurse she came with.

“You can call me Joan,” she tells him, before launching into a series of invasive questions: have you ever been pregnant before? Do you know if you're fertile or not? Have you had unprotected sex recently? When was the last time you had unprotected sex? Has anyone explained your options to you?

_No. No idea. Aye, yeah, I have. First week in April._

“I know what the options are,” he says to the last question.

Joan makes note of this. “But has anyone talked you through them?”

“Don't even know if I'm pregnant, do we?”

She gives him a sympathetic look. “Those pharmacy tests are generally quite accurate,” she says.

Louis has a sensation of falling.

“If you would prefer not to continue the pregnancy, I could provide a very safe, quick abortion,” she says. “You'd be back on your feet in hours. No fuss.”

“That's really my only option,” he says. “They wouldn't let me not get one.”

She gives him a sideways look. “They?”

“My… everyone," Louis says, bemused, shaking his head. "Don't know if you've noticed, but I'm on tour, currently.”

Joan shakes her head. “Regardless, an abortion is not your only option.”

“I can't _have_ the baby,” he says. A chill swallows him as he says it. He takes a breath and gives her a wobbly smile.

“Louis…” She studies his face. “I'm very comfortable performing this procedure, but in the rare case that someone is conflicted, I prefer to hold off until they've sorted out their feelings.”

Louis stares at her. “No, that’s backwards,” he says. “You ought to give it to me before I have the chance to change my mind.”

“Look,” she says, patting his arm. “Give it a few days. I need to get your bloodwork back, anyway. Confirm the pregnancy, see how far along you are.”

“I've been drinking,” he says, swallowing hard. “A few times in the last few weeks. I've drank and smoked pot.”

Joan stands up and starts collecting her things, snapping her gloves off and tossing them into the trash. “Any hard drugs?”

“No.”

“How many drinks at once?”

“Four, five...”

“In these early days, you ought to be fine. We’ll discuss it more when I'm back on Sunday,” she says. “Someone will call with lab results.”

She departs. Louis feels extraordinarily alone.

 

*

 

The bloodwork comes back. Sam delivers it by hand to his hotel room.

Louis is, indeed, eight weeks pregnant.

“Mazel tov,” Sam says with regret. “So… you have a meeting with some of your legal in two hours.”

He hands the paper off, sighs, and shuts the door on Louis.

Louis feels hot all over, like he’s down with a fever. He texts Liam.

_Its real. just got bloodwork back_

Liam texts back immediately.

_we should tell the boys_

Louis presses a hand quite hard to his stomach, like he's been injured there. He wonders how long until they start moving inside you. He wonders if it'll be gone before then.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“So what’s up?” Niall says, lounging back against the couch. He’s got one foot propped up on his other thigh, and an elbow resting on Harry’s shoulder. He’s the picture of relaxation.

Harry is tense and closed-off. He and Louis had a row the other day, over their warring theories on whether or not they should try to be trying to reach out to Zayn. Louis had gotten rather heated over this. Harry had hissed, “God, you’ve been a fucking _nightmare_ lately!” and slammed a door in his face.

Considering this, Louis is expecting a rather sour reception from him on the baby news.

They’re in Liam’s room, late that same night. It’s Liam’s turn to pace, now, like he’s the one who’s done something wrong. Louis sits on a pouf chair. He’s got his arms crossed and one knee up, like shielding his stomach will protect him from something.

“More bad news, boys,” Louis says. His mouth is dry again; it must be the air in the hotel. He coughs into his sleeve.

“Mmm… okay,” Niall says, stroking his stubble. “Somethin’ about the album? Somethin’ Zayn’s done? What’s happened? You’ve got me nervous.”

“Me too,” Harry comments.

“You could say it’s somethin’ Zayn’s done,” Louis says, and laughs a black little laugh. Liam stops pacing and looks at him with a sort of exasperated incredulity.

“This isn’t funny, you know, Louis,” he says sharply.

Louis is surprised and a bit hurt. “Fine.”

“Alright,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “I’d like to get to bed, at some point?”

This really sets Louis off, for some reason, and before he can even stop and consider what he’s doing, he swivels his head from Liam to Harry and snaps, “I’m pregnant, and it’s Zayn’s. Good enough reason to stay up, Harold?”

Harry stares at him. His eyebrows arc up into appalled triangles, and his mouth sets in a hard line. Louis feels repulsive, fiendish glee over the fact that he’s finally one-upped Harry when it comes to Zayn, and then is immediately ashamed of himself.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Niall says, putting his hands up in disbelief. “No. Hey, no, no. ‘Scuse me? Louis? Sorry? Run that one by us again?”

Louis is riding high on the adrenaline of honesty. He spreads his hands. “Don’t know what else to say, lads. I just found out today.”

They all fall silent. Outside the massive picture window, rain patters Cardiff.

“And Liam, you already knew?” Harry says, cutting his eyes at him.

Liam looks down at the carpet guiltily, and nods.

“If I had wanted a lecture,” Louis says nastily, “I’d have told _you_ first.”

“Alright, let’s settle down, boys,” Liam says loudly, moving his arms in a calming gesture. “We’re not enemies, here.”

“No, Zayn’s still the enemy, apparently,” Niall mutters. “Still fuckin’ us from afar, a month later. I can’t believe this...”

“Maybe you’d benefit from a lecture!” Harry says, shaking his head. “I mean... what the _fuck_ , Louis?”

“Do not,” Louis snaps. “Do _not._ ”

“How does something like this even happen?”

“Do not even _start_ on me --”

“I’ll start on you all I like!” Harry says, more loudly than he hardly ever speaks.

He and Louis glare at each other, breathing hard.

Liam comes over and beckons him to stand. Harry gets up, reluctantly, and they go out into the hall together.

Without them, the room falls silent.

Niall scratches his ear. “Be a bit awkward if they run into anyone out there,” he says, with a humorless laugh.

Louis presses his face into his hands. “I’ve fucked up so badly,” he moans.

“This hasn’t got to be such a huge deal,” Niall says. “You know? There’s, uh… options...”

“I know what an abortion is, thanks,” Louis snaps.

“I’m just tryin’ to ease your mind, Louis.”

“Sorry. I’m being a twat.”

“Understandable,” Niall says, kicking his legs up onto the couch where Harry was just sitting and leaning back against the arm of it. He yawns. “Awful position to be in.”

“Thanks,” Louis says, and sincerely means it. “For acknowledging that.”

Niall laughs. “Harry would obviously agree,” he says. “He’s just pissy with you right now to begin with, and, y’know, that whole thing with him an’ Zayn --”

Through his general nausea, Louis feels his stomach roll over with more insistence. He stands up in the middle of Niall’s sentence, goes into Liam’s bathroom, vomits the Saltines he ate earlier, rinses his mouth and returns to his seat.

“Could have just told me to stop talkin’,” Niall remarks. “Didn’t need to literally vomit, but I appreciate the added effort.”

Louis laughs.

“You alright? Want a ginger ale?”

Louis comes over to the couch and moves Niall’s feet so he can curl up. Niall watches him in concern, his head cocked to the side. “Yeah, please.”

Niall fetches one for him from Liam’s minibar, then presses it to Louis’ forehead for a few moments before opening it for him and stroking his hair. Louis sits up a little so he can sip from it, and Niall pats his shoulder reassuringly.

“You really are up the pole, huh?” Niall says. “Christ. What a pisser.”

“Don’t think it’s sunk in for me, yet,” Louis mumbles. “Keep touching my hair, it feels good.”

Niall scratches all over his scalp like he’s a cat. Louis leans into his touch, closing his eyes and giving himself over to how sleepy he is.

“You, uh, plan on tellin’ Zayn?” Niall says.

A tremendous and awful stab of anxiety goes through Louis. He feels hot all over again, like he did before.

“No,” Louis says. He hadn’t allowed himself to consider it, but faced with the question, he knows. “No, least not if I have an abortion. He’ll never know.”

Niall leans down and wraps his arms around Louis, hugging him. “Sorry for bringin’ it up. Not like he’s a light topic around here to begin with.”

Louis is about to respond when there’s a knock at the door. Niall leaves him and opens it. Liam and Harry file back in.

Harry looks chagrined, and Liam looks exhausted.

“Louis, let’s talk,” Harry says quietly, looking down at his boots. His long hair falls in his eyes.

“Fine,” Louis says, and follows him out.

Out in the hall, Harry sucks on his bottom lip. He looks like his mind is several different places at once. “I’ve got an early workout, so I’ll make this quick, and then I’m going to bed,” he says.

“Fine,” Louis repeats.

Harry rocks back and forth on his feet. His gaze darts all around. Louis has a familiar tingling feeling, and it takes him a moment to place: it’s the same sixth sense he gets when someone recognizes him in public, and they’re trying not to stare.

A lump rises in his throat. Harry’s trying not to look at his stomach.

It strikes him as almost laughable. There’s nothing to see. The fetus is the size of a kidney bean, he looked it up. And yet there’s a palpable aura around him, created just by the knowing. He feels it too. He’s felt it since he found out, this morning. The weight and texture and density of the concept itself. The general occupied state of his womb.

Louis had never in his life thought about his womb before, and now he can’t stop. He’s _got_ a womb, and there’s something _in_ there, and Zayn put it there. Zayn _, n._ \-- _gone, scarpered, disloyal, vanished_ \-- has fathered him a baby. Every time this occurs to him, he feels circuits overloading, fans failing, entire systems of thought shutting down.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, in his ponderous way. “For speaking to you like that. That’s a shitty way to talk to somebody who’s in this situation.”

“I thought you loved pregnant people,” Louis gently teases him. He feels forgiving toward Harry, right now.

Harry smiles back weakly. “This is hard for me,” he says. “The -- I didn’t know about you and Zayn. That’s…  sort of a bitter pill, honestly.”

Louis shakes his head. “Look, we were just hooking up. As friends. I was -- well, _obviously_ , he was goin’ through somethin’,” he says, and his tone gets hard and nasty. “I thought I was helping him through it, and, clearly, really, I wasn’t. And now… So. Yeah. That’s where I’m at.”

Harry nods. “You know, he’s a shitarse.”

Louis laughs particularly hard at that.

“No, I mean it. Hasn’t responded to your texts, right?” Harry says, cracking a few knuckles on his left hand and tossing his hair back in annoyance. The hotel lights are low and casting both of them in deep, soft shadow. “Never tried to explain to us why he did it, did he? I feel like I don’t even know him, suddenly. I…”

He bites his lip and looks away, down the hall.

“I did carry a torch for him,” he admits quietly. “Have for quite a while. I just couldn’t -- I mean, it was always an awful idea. It never would have worked out. I just… it was in the back of my head.”

“I know,” Louis says, sighing. “I do know.”

“It had to be Zayn?” Harry says, laughing awkwardly.

“Well, it didn’t have to be anyone, really,” Louis says. “Shouldn’t have been, rather. It's just I'm a fuckin’ moron who forgets to carry rubbers.”

Harry looks at him and starts laughing sincerely, and then Louis does too. It’s rather loud laughter, as they break and ease the tension between them.

A door opens down the hall and Lou sticks her head out. “Excuse me, boys,” she calls fondly. “What the bloody hell are you cackling about at half midnight? Go to bed!”

“Ahh, get on with ya!” Louis yells at her, giving her the finger without malice. She cheerfully returns it and shuts the door.

“Is it really that late?” Harry says, alarmed. “I have sincerely got to go to bed, like, right now.”

“Go, go,” Louis says. “I’ll text you lot any updates, obviously. I’ve got a meetin’ with legal at one.”

“A meeting at _one?_ ”

“Well, it’s a bit of an urgent situation, I suppose,” Louis says, with a wan smile.

Harry hesitates before leaving. “What are you going to do?”

“You know,” Louis says, with a mockingly faux-academic tone, “it’s as if everyone keeps forgetting that I just found out about it this morning, and everythin’?”

“Right, no, I know, but you’ve got to have a general idea.”

“Oh, I’ve _got_ to,” Louis snarks. “No one told me I'd got to. I’ll have a report on your desk tomorrow, then, Harold, by all means.”

Harry eyeballs him. “Louis… be straight with me, for once.”

Louis thinks he might be sick to his stomach again, as he weighs what to say and what to keep to himself.

“I’m conflicted,” he finally admits.

Harry looks baffled. “About an abortion?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, with a heavy sigh. “Yeah, about that.”

“ _God_ , Louis.”

“I know. I’m… I know.”

“Is that even an option?” Harry says. “Not having one? Would we end the tour? Start the hiatus now?”

Louis shakes his head. “You’ve got the same questions I do.”

“Right, sorry,” Harry mutters, and he crosses his tattooed arms. “Text me later, then.”

Louis nods, and watches him walk away toward his room. 

 

*

 

His legal team are kind, and patient, but they're clearly already at their wits end with helping out as all of legal restructures the band’s contracts post-Zayn, and have little energy left to deal with a stroppy, hormonal Louis. They shush him quite a lot.

Simon Cowell conferences in halfway through. Louis wonders how he reacted when he found out; if he was disappointed but not surprised.

“I can fly some more personnel out to Wales tomorrow,” Simon says. He sounds nearly bored over it. This entire situation must happen even more frequently than Louis suspected. “To oversee everything, make sure this is taken care of discreetly.”

“Right, well, that would be helpful, sir,” says Sandy Of Legal, as Louis thinks of her. He doesn't even know her last name. “We would appreciate it.”

“Your mob doctor? Joan?” Louis pipes up, leaning toward the black landline in the middle of the table. “She doesn't want to give me the abortion.”

Simon’s line goes quiet.

“Why on earth not?” he finally says.

“She thinks I don't want one.”

Sandy Of Legal and Roger Of Legal look at each other in a mild panic.

“No one is being _pressured_ here, I assume,” Roger says, steepling his fingers and looking sternly at Louis over the tops of his square glasses.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Roger,” Simon says, crackly through the phone. “Of course not. It's not like _I'm_ the father, or something.”

It's a dark joke that doesn't go over particularly well, considering Louis hasn't said who the father is or what the circumstances of the conception were.

“He wants one, of course,” Simon barrels ahead. “I know Louis, he wants to keep working.”

“Right,” Louis says. “I do. Want to keep working.”

A thick silence descends over the table like fog.

“Louis, what are you saying?” Simon asks. “You can't want to… continue with it?”

“Don't quite know, yet,” Louis says, his heart fluttering nervously. He drums a pen on the conference room table.

“We’ll talk later,” Simon says in a clipped tone.

He hangs up. The meeting continues without him. Everyone seems fearful, like they're sharing the room with an idea too big to fathom: the sudden, crashing and disappointing end of the One Direction phenomenon.

Louis doesn't want that. He won't let it happen. Not yet.

 

*

 

He goes into Liam's room and lies down beside him. After a moment, Liam reaches over and pulls him close, so they're cuddling.

“Can't sleep either?” Louis murmurs.

“Having a bit of difficulty, yeah.”

Louis is quiet. In the dark, he can pretend nothing's wrong; that the world outside of them doesn't exist, that nothing lies beyond the four walls of this room.

“You ought to tell your mum,” Liam says, and kisses his shoulder.

Louis feels terror welling up in him again. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

He heaves a gusty sigh. “She'd be disappointed.”

“Your mum? Never. She thinks you hung the moon.”

“Disappointed for me, not with me. Sad. I dunno.”

Liam strokes his back. “I suppose.”

“This wasn't supposed to happen to me,” Louis says, his voice hoarse and tight. He clears his throat. “I wasn't supposed to _let_ this happen. She always warned me, how I carried on. That I might get in trouble. She had me young, she knew. I never listened. Thought I was invincible.”

“It isn't your fault,” Liam says firmly.

“No, it's both our faults. But ‘e wasn't in his right mind, was he? We know that now. We know he went full-on barmy at some point. Wasn't thinking straight. Just wanted out of it all so badly.”

Liam rubs his back more insistently, like he's trying to knead the bad feelings out of Louis.

“I can't have his baby,” Louis chokes out. “Can I?”

“You can do whatever you want, Louis, and I'll stand by you.”

There's a phantom weight pressing down on Louis’ chest, and he rolls over onto his side to dispel it. He pushes back up against Liam so they're spooning. Liam touches him, sort of hesitantly.

“No matter what, it won't come in the way of the band,” Louis says firmly. “We’re gettin’ the album done. I'll keep writing. We’ll finish out the tour.”

“Louis…”

“No. I mean it.”

“Okay, lad,” Liam murmurs to him. “We’ll get it all done.”

 

*

 

Louis has many vivid, complex dreams that bleed into each other. He only remembers two of them. In the first one, he’s being swallowed by a whale, and everything is bubbles in the water and abject terror.

In the second, he’s very pregnant, but it's nice. He can tell he really, really wants to be. He's in a ball pit for some reason, tossing a rainbow of colored balls at Liam, who stands to the side fondly making fun of him about something. They're both laughing quite hard.

He wakes up covered in sweat. Liam has rolled over and left Louis with all the covers. The rain has since passed, and through the window the sun is rising over Cardiff. He checks the clock radio. He's awake about an hour early.

Louis lies there, responding to texts that he’d been ignoring since yesterday morning. He already feels nauseous again. Beside him, Liam snores softly.

 


	3. Chapter 3

HELSINKI, JUNE 29, 2016

The European leg of the tour winds down without Louis making a decision.

Despite questioning sidelong glances from Harry, worried looks from Christina, Liam treating him like he’s porcelain, phone calls from Sam that he ignores, awful cigarette cravings, repeated texts from Simon that are just a series of question marks, crushing fatigue, and the fact that he’s had to leave the stage to vomit at a few dates, he’s been able to pretty well put off discussing it with anyone. He’s waiting for the next break, so he can sit down with his mum and ask her to tell him what he’s thinking.

In the meantime, he has a row with Zayn on Twitter over Shahid, over Zayn's disregard for the band. Zayn swipes back at him, and it feels like his heart’s been torn straight from his chest. The next day, he goes out with Niall and meets a pretty brunette beta in a club: he eats her out in a bathroom stall, jammed up against the door, her fingers in his hair and his knees on the disgusting floor. Then she sucks him off the same way, and tears prick at his eyes as he comes in her mouth. When he returns to their booth, Niall kindly allows him to pretend he was just off having a wee. He tells no one about it, not even Liam.

Everything in the world seems to point to him having an abortion, and yet there is this thrumming, quietly insistent part of him that still balks at it. Some little tucked-away aspect of himself that has laid dormant for five years, that niggles and nags at him, that begs, _can’t I have this one thing? They’ve taken so much else. I want a baby. I’ve always, always wanted a baby._

Some nights when he’s lying in bed he can’t help but curl around himself, aching desperately with the desire to keep the tiny tadpole inside of him, for wanting to have this thing that is his and only his. And there's another layer underneath that, more raw and woeful, of wanting this tiny creature that is half Zayn’s -- wanting what they made together when things were still good.

He’s packing to leave for the Helsinki-Vantaa Airport when his phone starts buzzing on his bed with a call from Sam.

Louis picks up. “‘Lo?”

“Meeting in five, conference room down the hall,” Sam says. He’s breathing heavily, and Louis hears a car door slam. “Urgent. Extremely so.”

“Right,” Louis says, confused, folding a pair of jeans. “Any other information?”

“Sorry, not over the phone,” Sam says, and hangs up.

Louis hangs up and abandons his packing, ignoring his reflection as he passes a mirror.

 

*

 

The two Simons, Jones and Cowell, are there in person, both similarly white-faced. So are a gaggle of higher-ups from Modest and the label, assorted PR shills, and Sam. Louis stops in the doorway, his pulse skyrocketing. He thinks he already knows what’s happened.

“Louis, come in and sit down,” Simon Cowell says, jerking his head toward a seat at the foot of the table.

Louis stands frozen.

“Louis,” Simon repeats impatiently. “Come in.”

On jelly legs, he makes his way to the seat. Everyone is either staring at him or doing their best not to. Outside on the balcony, several suits are all on the phone, waving their arms and looking grim.

“It’s leaked, hasn’t it?” Louis says, folding his arms. His face is growing hot as his hands become clammy and cold. He sits, barely even intending to, obedient to Simon’s gesturing.

“TMZ paid off that nurse that works with Joan,” Simon says, tossing his sunglasses onto the table. They land with a loud clatter in the otherwise quiet room. Sandy startles a little.

Jones runs his hands through his hair. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Fifty grand!” Simon says, laughing. “Can you believe that? If she’d told us they approached her, we would have paid her double just to keep her mouth shut! And now she’s gone and violated an NDA.”

“We aren’t totally sure on that,” Roger says. “She threw some paperwork out, and they fished it out of the trash. We can’t necessarily prove in civil court that they contacted her beforehand. But we’ll nail her somewhere, even if we can only get her on violation through negligence.”

Simon shakes his head. “We’ll sue her saggy tits clean off, but it doesn’t matter. You know? They’ve already got it.”

Louis feels himself leaving his body. Compared to the rest of the room, it seems as if he’s experiencing time very slowly, like he’s trapped in amber. “So,” he says. “I’m fucked, really? I’ve got no options?”

“We could very quickly get you an, um,” Simon says. “We could still take care of this, very fast. Just Joan, no one else. It’ll be a big risk, since they’ve got a smoking gun. But if we can pull it off with no one the wiser, and then dash out a quick denial, TMZ will have no choice but to pull the story. It’ll be forgotten in a month.”

Calm settles over Louis.

“No,” he says, almost serenely.

Everyone turns to look at him, and then at Simon, like they’re watching a tennis match.

Simon rubs at his stubble. He has a strange look on his face. “No,” he repeats. “No. Right then! The boy says no.”

“Aye, I’m saying no,” Louis says, his temper rising.

“Leaving the tour, then, are you?” Simon says, staring a hole in him. “What’s your plan, here?”

Louis shakes his head. “I’m stayin’ on. Long as I can. Maybe we can cancel a few of the North American dates.”

Sam takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes.

“How far along are you?” Sandy asks him quietly.

“Almost twelve weeks,” Louis says, fiddling with a string on his hoodie.

There’s some murmuring amongst the Modest crew. Someone mumbles _“Jesus”_.

She scratches out some figures. “He’ll be about seven months gone when OTRA finishes up,” she says to Simon, clearing her throat.

“Right, I had worked that out already,” Simon says drily. “Thanks, Sandy.”

“Just trying to give a proper picture,” she says, flushing and scowling.

“Cut him some slack,” Jones says. “He’s trying to do the right thing, here.”

“Ahh, yeah,” Sam intones. “That fabled _right thing_ that’s so helpful when it comes to, you know, running a massive multimillion dollar operation. You haven’t got much to worry about, have you, Simon? Your job just got a whole lot safer, didn’t it? You’ll be hitting back at rags for years to come.”

“Larry,” Louis says. “What about Larry?”

There’s some shifting in seats and general grumbles.

“Well, that’s another thing,” Simon Cowell says. “We can't exactly go and say, oh, no, he's an omega, now can we? I can think of another defense -- who’s the father?”

Blood drains from Louis’ face.

“I can’t say,” he says.

No one seems happy with this answer.

Simon comes over to him and leans down. He’s chewing Doublemint gum. The smell is oppressive.

“Say it in my ear,” he says, in a way that leaves very little room for a refusal, and then turns his head to Louis.

Louis experiences a spike of nausea. He leans in.

“Zayn,” he whispers, relishing for a moment in how much Simon will hate hearing that.

Simon is still, and then straightens up calmly and smacks an empty chair, sending it falling on its side and startling everyone, including the suits on the balcony. One of them opens the sliding glass door a bit and hisses, “Keep it _together,_ mate!”

“Fuck!” Simon yells. “Fucking hell! Of course it is. Of _course_.”

“What did he _say?_ ” Roger demands, looking primly horrified by this brutish display. “Good God!”

“Four guesses,” Louis says, feeling a bit hysterical. “First three don’t count.”

Simon leans on the wall, hand over his eyes. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fucking fuck. Fucking bloody shite and buggering fuck. You lot have just become so much more goddamn trouble than you’re worth, haven’t you?”

Ainsley, who’s with Modest, just shakes her head. Her icy blonde bob doesn’t move an inch as she does so. Louis finds himself transfixed by that.

Sandy looks at Louis. “Is it... “ she bites her lip. “It isn’t _Zayn’s_ , is it?”

Louis stares at her. He can’t bring himself to nod. The tip of his nose tingles, like he might cry. He’s been doing quite a bit of that lately.

He doesn’t have to say anything, in the end. His reaction is enough.

The murmuring crests to an uproar of noise, everyone talking at once. Sandy gets up, comes over and ushers Louis out of the room. Christina is waiting, sitting against the wall, and she leaps to her feet. Sandy waves her away, and just pats Louis gently on his back while he regains his composure. It occurs to him that she must be an omega as well. She’s being too kind to him to be otherwise.

“Couldn’t let you stay in there,” she says softly. “Terrible people sometimes, aren’t they?”

“Sometimes? Often, really,” he says. He laughs and wipes his nose with his hoodie sleeve. “And now I just keep thinkin’ how badly I want a cigarette.”

Sandy laughs. “I know, isn’t it awful? And you can’t have coffee either, or a drink at the end of the day. I’ve just got the one, and I’ve got no particular interest in doing it again. Christina, could you get him some water?”

“Yes!” she chirps. Louis hears quick little footsteps behind him, and suddenly a cold Evian is thrust into his hands. He thanks her blearily.

“Let’s get you back to your room,” Sandy says. “You don’t need to hear what they’re saying right now.”

“But I did have a question,” Louis insists. “The Harry thing. I don’t need to make his life harder, and God knows mine neither --”

Sandy bobs her head side to side in a noncommittal way. “Ahh,” she says, grimacing. “See -- it all depends on if Zayn wants to claim paternity, or not. But no matter what, there will be truthers, as always. And… the team might lean into it for a little while, for reasons you’re aware of. Like how they’ve always shied away from denying Larry entirely, because it feeds into the public perception of Harry being an alpha. You know?”

“Fucking moronic, honestly,” Louis says, shaking his head.

“You ought to go rest,” Sandy says. “Go lay down. Christina, can you reschedule his flight?”

Louis is suddenly terrified that he’s trapped in the hotel without allies. “Has Liam taken our plane, then?” he demands of Christina.

She shakes her head. “The plane’s still here. I told him he could go, but he stayed when he heard you had an emergency meeting.”

“Right,” Louis says, “thanks, love,” and he takes off down the hall.

 

*

 

He explains everything to Liam, finding himself strangely composed as Liam grows more and more distressed, and then caps off his sordid tale with the bombshell that he's keeping the baby.

Liam, moon-faced, heartbroken on his behalf, stares at him with round brown eyes and a mouth left open in disbelief. “Oh, Louis _,_ ” he says, and the mournful sound of his voice is actually painful to hear.

“It’s alright, lad!” Louis exclaims, grinning, manic. “Just the end of the world, y’know? Just the end of the fucking world, is all!”

Liam stands up, and, after a moment of fidgety hesitation, drops to a knee in front of him. Louis thinks maybe he’s dropped something, until Liam grabs his hand.

“I’ll marry you,” Liam tells him, looking him right in the eye with utter sincerity.

There’s a rushing sound in Louis’ ears, like the ocean. He stares at Liam, uncomprehending.

“I will, I swear it,” Liam insists. “If you need someone to be there, I will marry you, I’m dead serious --”

“You’ve lost it,” Louis says, tugging his hand away. “Holy shit, you’ve truly gone outside your fucking mind.”

“I haven’t!” Liam says urgently, grabbing him round the hips. “I mean it, Louis --”

Louis feels claustrophobic. He pulls away from Liam and goes into the bathroom, locks the door and turns the cold tap on, then puts his head under the water and just stands there trying to shock himself out of panic.

Liam knocks on the door.

“Fuck,” he says. “I dunno what came over me. Tommo? Please don’t freak out. I’m just -- I’m worried about you, is all --”

“Not freaking out about _that_ ,” Louis calls over the water. “Sort of just the cherry on top of everythin’.”

His stomach quakes and he dry heaves, but blessedly, nothing comes up. He straightens up and looks at himself in the mirror, which he’s been trying not to do lately. He’s a wreck. His eyes are puffy and red, and he looks like a drowned rat.

Louis tears his hoodie off and tosses it on the floor so he’s just in his tee. He turns to the side. There’s a very slight swell there that he’s noticed in the past week or so: not in his lower stomach where he usually puts on weight, but up higher, where he guesses his uterus is. No one would notice it if they didn’t know what to look for.

He goes and opens the door. Liam is standing there, looking mortified.

“Let’s figure out our flight,” Louis says wearily. “I need to get to England, like, yesterday.”

“Right,” Liam says, nodding, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Right.”

 

*

 

They’re in the air when Simon texts him, _Have strongarmed TMZ. They have exclusivity for rep statement, so have agreed to sit on story til AM Friday and no later. You have until then to inform everyone who needs to know._

 _Cheers_ , Louis texts back.

Simon doesn't say anything for a while, and then: _I think you ought to announce the hiatus soon. Ann Marie agrees._


	4. Chapter 4

ENGLAND, JUNE 29, 2015

Louis surprises his mum, grinning, greeting her in a sing-songy tone. He hugs all his sisters and says hi to the babies, he chats about football with Dan. He does a bang-up job of pretending, initially, like things are as they always are.

“You look tired,” Fizzy notes, studying him, and he smiles at her and reminds her he’s just been traveling all over Europe.

When he finally gets his mum alone with a cup of tea, he slowly unravels, becoming quieter and more withdrawn, picking at the frilly tablecloth incessantly until she reaches over to still his hands.

“I know something’s wrong,” Jay says, and it’s all over then. He tells her. No tears, no shaking. It’s getting easier to say.

First off she’s shocked, and then he tells her it’s Zayn’s, and she’s blistering angry. Then he tells her he’s keeping it, and that it’ll be all over the news by the end of the week. Her face screws up, and she begins to cry.

Louis hugs her. He feels lousier than he has in months.

“My poor baby,” she says through her tears. “My darling boy.”

“I’ll be alright, mum,” he reassures her as he holds her.

“I know you will,” Jay sniffs. “You’ve got all the support in the world here, alright? If you need anything, a babysitter, a shoulder, anything. You’ve got it right here, always.”

“We don’t know how he’s going to react,” Louis says hoarsely. “Zayn, I mean. Let’s not think of it so direly.”

Jay presses her forehead to his bicep, and he kisses her on the head.

“I never wanted that for you,” she whispers. “That uncertainty.”

He knows it was coming, but it hurts badly all the same. Louis sucks in a breath.

“Can we be excited?” he says, trying to steady his voice out. “Just a bit? I sort of haven’t gotten the chance to do that, yet.”

She looks up at him, all quavery smile and red eyes. “Oh, Louis, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be all traumatized mum here and nothing else. It is a lovely thing in the end, isn’t it? A baby?”

Jay presses a gentle hand to his stomach. He covers hers with his larger one.

“A baby,” Louis says, and he lets himself push through all of the panic and embrace that little glowing feeling in the center of his chest that hasn’t left him since he found out. He smiles. “Little Tommo baby.”’

Jay laughs, and dabs at her eyes. “Is it healthy?”

“Oh, yeah, as a horse, like,” Louis assures her. “I forgot to say, had a sonogram the other week. Heartbeat, an’ everythin’. Arms, legs, fingers, toes. All of it.”

“Ooh, have you got a photo for me?”

“No,” Louis says, and his jaw tightens a little. “When I had it, I wasn’t sure yet, if…”

He finds himself floundering in dark waters. Jay nods and gives him a look that indicates she understands, and he can move on.

“I’ll get one for you next time,” he finishes.

She pats his arm. “Alright, love.”

 

*

 

After informing everyone else in the house (Lottie shouts, “Holy shit, we’re going to be _aunts!_ ” in a nonplussed Fizzy’s face, Phoebe demands to know how babies are made and is resolutely ignored by everyone, Dan looks quite uncomfortable with all of this and starts rambling on about the benefits of folic acid) Louis leaves the next morning with an absolute arseload of food that Jay insisted on sending him home with.

“Eat more!” she yells at him from the porch as he packs his car. “You got far too thin last year! You’re eating for two, now, love!”

“I will!” he hollers back to her. Daniel snorts as he starts up the Escalade.

“Mums,” he says, and shakes his head.

“You really should be showing by now!” Jay hollers. He waves to her and quickly gets in the car.

“Should I be showin’ by now?” he asks Daniel, as he gets his phone out and texts Liam for a reminder on what Zayn’s parents’ address is.

“Actually, I don’t know,” Daniel says, pondering it while he drives. “You’re what, twelve weeks? What’s that? I’m shit at maths.”

“I’m three months, near to the day,” Louis informs him.

“Well, that means nothing to me, mate. Ask Siri.”

Louis looks at his phone. Liam is typing. He pushes down a sudden jolt of anxiety.

“I think it depends, right?” Daniel says. “I mean, you’re slim.”

“But muscular!” Louis exclaims, and flexes. 

Daniel laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Actually, I think that helps keep you from showing, you know? Tight abs?”

Liam sends the address, and then says, _you’ll be alright?_

 _Yep_ , Louis says back, and adds a thumbs up and a sunglasses emoji.

 _Call me if u need me to come knock him out,_ Liam says. _Ill do it, i swear to god_

_If i need him knocked out, he'll be out cold long before you could get over here Payno_

_Lmao_ , Liam says, _youre right. but let me know what he says_

_of course !!_

Liam types for a while, and then stops. The bubble vanishes. Louis squints at his phone, then sets it aside.

 

*

 

Twice on the hour-long drive to Zayn’s, Louis has Daniel stop so he can vomit at the roadside. He would chalk it up to morning sickness, but he knows it's got to be partly nerves.

After the second time, he gets in the passenger seat so he can put his feet on the dash. Daniel pats him on the shoulder before he starts the car up again.

“You’re fine, kid,” he says, reassuringly. “It’ll be fine.”

“Right,” Louis says, pulling his snapback down over his eyes. “But even if it isn’t, life goes on, yeah?”

“That it does,” Daniel agrees, and hands him a water and a pack of gum.

“Y’know, Liam offered to marry me,” Louis says, kicking his feet up.

Daniel chokes on his own saliva. “Sorry?”

“Yep,” Louis says, with false cheer. “That’s the situation I've gotten myself into. In such dire straits, my best mate is offering to marry me to stop my life falling apart.”

Daniel glances over at him. “You sure that’s the only reason he asked?”

“Fairly sure,” Louis says breezily. “Why, you know somethin’ I don’t?”

Daniel doesn’t answer, and Louis looks over at him, suddenly curious.

“Ah…” Daniel says, scratching the back of his neck and looking a bit stricken. “Forget it, I dunno. Just thought I’d noticed something between you two, ever since I was brought on.”

“We’re quite close,” Louis says, his voice growing stiff and his body language walling him off. He’s sure Liam doesn’t think of him that way, which makes this conversation nearer to pathetic than he’d like.

“I could be wrong, I’m sure,” Daniel says. “Offering to marry someone without an ulterior motive, it does seem like the sort of thing he would do.”

“Exactly,” Louis mutters.

He turns his head to look out the window.

 

 

*

 

Trisha answers the door.

It’s excruciating. She’s absolutely baffled at seeing him, and Louis practically has to shove his foot in the jamb to keep her from closing it on him. She insists, again and again, that Zayn won’t want to see Louis, and he tells her in no uncertain terms to make it clear to him that this is a matter of dire importance.

“Is it _really_?” Trisha pleads with him, as she reluctantly heads up the stairs while Louis stands in the foyer. “He’s going to be quite annoyed with me, Louis, for springing this on him. Couldn’t you have called?”

“Funny, he hasn’t been answering my calls,” Louis snarks. “So, y’know, no. And yeah, it’s quite important, actually. You’ll thank me come Friday, trust me.”

She stares at him. “And what exactly is happening on Friday?”

“Just get Zayn and tell him to meet me in the garden,” Louis says, storming through the house toward the back. He passes one of Zayn’s sisters, who jumps in alarm at seeing him and nearly drops her phone.

Outside, he takes a deep breath of the crisp June air and starts to pace around. He doesn’t want to sit. He needs to keep this high of energy going, so it’ll come out as soon as he sees Zayn, otherwise he’ll never screw up the courage to say it.

There’s incoherent yelling from an upstairs window at the back of the house. Louis rolls his eyes. The yelling dies down after a minute, and then some crashing around, and stomping on the stairs. His heart quickens. He reminds himself to breathe deep through his diaphragm, and not to vomit.

The back door squeaks and there’s footsteps behind him. He turns.

Zayn stands there in a gray cable knit jumper. His beard is grown out a bit, and he looks quite handsome. He looks like his more youthful self, not the sallow, thin and beaten-down figure Louis last saw that night in Dubai.

Louis’ stomach clenches in anxiety, and his chest aches with an unspeakable pain at the sight of Zayn's face.

“Hey,” Zayn says warily.

“Hey,” Louis says. His voice comes out weakly. “You should sit.”

“Should I?” Zayn says, but he obliges, taking a seat on a bench that’s framed by two small Judas trees. He inclines his head at the spot next to him.

Louis clears his throat. “I ought to just… I need to say somethin’ to you, I ought to be standing when I say it.”

A silence falls. It’s a foggy day, and the air is thick already; thicker still for the tension between them.

“If you’re gonna ask me to come back…” Zayn already looks profoundly annoyed by the very idea.

“No,” Louis says, immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“Thanks,” Zayn snorts.

“You’re not going to take this well,” Louis says, apprehensively. “Just warnin’ you. It’s a lot.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and gives a limp gesture. “You’re… what? Together with Perrie, or summat? I could have seen that one comin’, honestly.”

Louis squints at him, and then laughs humorlessly. “No, mate. That is so far off base, Christ.”

He can’t seem to soothe the prickly, thorny pain that started up in him at seeing Zayn. He looks off into the dreary English horizon, thinking he might be able to do this if he just doesn’t make eye contact.

“I'm sorry for what I said, you know,” Zayn says uncomfortably. “On Twitter. I was out of line. I just --”

“I’m pregnant,” Louis blurts out, and swallows over the lump in his throat. “I’m, uh. I’m havin’ your baby, Zayn.”

It falls like a bomb between them. Ages seem to pass in the little moment after he says it.

Louis turns back to see Zayn lean forward, elbows on his knees and hands in his hair, staring at the ground.

“No,” he whispers in despair. “No, no, _no_. Oh, Louis, no. Tell me you aren’t, mate. Oh, Louis.”

Louis sallies gamely forth, despite this butchering of his heart.

“I’m keeping it, obviously,” he says, his voice uneven and reedy. “Wouldn’t bother tellin’ you about it, if I wasn’t.”

Zayn looks up at him, his dark eyes glittering and hard, his beautiful face full of withering disappointment.

“You couldn’t just let me leave,” he says. “You couldn’t let me get on with my life! I fuckin’ -- there’s a reason I didn’t answer the phone to you,” he rages, “there's a reason I've been distancing myself, I knew you’d be able to guilt me back into it if I let you, I knew, I knew, if I let you talk t’ me I’d cave, I’d fold, you fuckin’ --”

“I didn’t _ask_ for this!” Louis bellows, storming toward him with such force and unbridled temper that Zayn jerks in fear. Louis holds back, trembling, every muscle strung taut with anger.

“I didn’t _ask,_ ” he screams, his voice high and tremendously loud. “You’re actin’ like this is somethin’ I _did_ , it’s somethin’ that _happened_ to me! It’s somethin’ _you did to me!_ You think I would have chosen _you_ as the father? I’m just waitin’ to find out what particular brand of deadbeat you plan to be --”

“I can’t believe,” Zayn shouts, leaping to his feet, “that you would rush in here and spring this on me, totally out of the blue, like, no warnin’ whatsoever, then threaten and berate me, like, how _dare_ you, Louis? How fuckin’ dare you? Why do you get to try to make me be a _dad_? I’m twenty-two!”

Louis’ head swims.

“Are you leavin’ the tour?” he demands. “Leavin’ the band? I’ll fuckin’ bet the answer’s no!”

“No!” Louis shouts in his face. “No! _Goddamn_ you, Zayn! Jesus fucking Christ!”

He turns and strides away, down a path that leads to a more wooded area of the garden, further and further from Zayn, trying to keep himself composed. Finally he stops and drops to his knees in the soft dirt, and then to his hands, and is wracked with sobs until he’s dry heaving from the force of them and he can’t see anything at all.

Soon he hears footsteps, and then Zayn crouches next to him, shushing him. He sits beside Louis and pulls him into his lap, stroking his hair and wiping his eyes.

“Louis,” he says, his voice raw. “Louis, mate. God…”

“I’m sorry,” Louis chokes, wiping his nose and face with his sleeve. “I’m sorry. I’m a fuckin’ mess, lately --”

“No,” Zayn says sharply.

Louis takes in a massive shaky breath and starts crying all over again. They sit there for a while in the quiet of the garden, as he tries to calm himself and Zayn whispers quiet nothings to him.

“Are you really havin’ my baby?” Zayn says after some time, in a thin, small voice.

Through his tears, Louis quietly says that he is.

“That was so long ago,” Zayn mutters, “you’ve got to be, what…”

“Three months,” Louis says. His head is resting on Zayn’s thigh. He opens his eyes and stares bleakly out ahead of him, at the tips of Zayn’s trainers and beyond that, the gnarled roots of an old tree, being swallowed up by ivy.

“I pulled out,” Zayn says, dazed. “I… when we didn’t have a rubber, I always pulled out.”

“Not well enough, I s’pose.”

“Louis...”

“I know,” Louis says, feeling like he wants to dry heave again.

“Why not have it taken care of?”

Louis hates that phrasing with a passion. Like it’s a mole on his arm.

“I can’t make you understand,” he says flatly. “Hardly anyone has. ‘Cept maybe my mum.”

“You’ve got to do whatever you got to do,” Zayn says, not sounding as if he quite believes it. “It’s just this is... We’re so young. I've got so much I want to do, Louis. It’s so much to put on me --”

“It's a bigger deal for me, I’d wager,” he responds, chilly.

“You know what I mean,” Zayn says in exasperation.

Louis sits up and settles down across from him, dusting off his knees. They look at each other, with a mixture of queasy, unsettled anger, and love that’s under quite a bit of strain.

“Look, I get it,” Louis says. “I don’t expect much from you. Only as much as you want to give, honestly.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Thanks, I sort of got that from those fuckin’ horrible deadbeat dad comments.”

Louis winces and looks away.

“I need to process this, like,” Zayn says, and sighs deeply. “I… Christ. So you’re absolutely sure it’s mine, yeah?”

Louis jerks his head up and looks Zayn dead in the eye.

Zayn puts his hands up. “Fine.”

“It couldn’t be anyone else’s,” Louis spits.

“I believe you!”

“Oh, you had fuckin’ better, lad.”

Zayn shakes his head. “You’re impossible to talk to,” he says, standing and reaching a hand out to pull Louis to his feet. Louis wobbles a bit. His center of gravity has been off, lately.

“Come in,” Zayn says. “I’ve got to go tell my mum.”

Louis drops his hand in alarm. “Right now? While I’m here?”

“I mean,” Zayn says, staring at him like he's daft. “Yeah? She said you said somethin’ was happening on Friday. Guessing you're announcing it before you start showing?”

“TMZ got the story,” Louis says, swallowing. “Forced our hand. It drops Friday whether we like it or not.”

“Christ,” Zayn says nastily. “Great business we’re in.”

He absent-mindedly starts rummaging in his pockets for a cigarette, and pulls one out.

“Don’t,” Louis says.

“Fuck,” Zayn says. “Right.”

He puts it away. They start walking back to the house. Louis’ nostrils and throat are burning from the force of his crying, and his eyes are so puffy they’re numb.

“So have you quit, then?” Zayn says, glancing at him.

Louis nods. “Weed, cigs, pills, drinking. Tea. Real tea, anyway.”

“That’s a fuckin’ nightmare. Sorry.”

Louis shrugs. “It’s my bonehead decision to keep it, so…”

“‘S’not... _boneheaded_ ,” Zayn mutters. “I mean, it makes sense. I know you, you’ve wanted a baby since forever. I should have been safer with you.”

“We were both stupid, thought we were invincible, thought rubbers were lame… I don’t particularly blame you, or anythin’,” Louis says, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Zayn lets out a short sigh. “Alright. Good. I’m just -- I’m still -- this isn’t really sinkin’ in, I don’t think.”

Louis holds the sliding door open for him and nods. “Give it a few days.”

 

*

 

Trisha is appropriately horrified by the news, but to Louis’ great relief, she’s only angry with Zayn, and drags him out of the dining room by his ear to scream at him in private. At this point, Zayn’s sisters have all made themselves scarce.

When they return, Zayn’s handsome face is bright red.

“Your father’s going to _kill_ you,” she hisses at him before she leaves him alone to talk with Louis. “Kill you!”

“Oh, good,” Zayn says wearily. “Cheers, mum.”

She slams the door, and then opens it again a moment later. “Can I get you anything, Louis?” she says, looking at him with sympathy. “Water? Anything?”

“I’m fine,” he assures her.

When she’s gone, Zayn fiddles with a napkin ring that’s been left behind on the table, then pushes his sleeves up and plays with his watch. Louis observes him, feeling utterly drained.

After a bit of silence, Zayn laces his fingers together and stares at his hands.

“So why are you going back to the tour?” he says. “Why not cancel everythin’, lay low? You’re not going to be able to keep up with it. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“We can cancel some dates,” Louis says, bristling. “I’m not an invalid.”

“It’s a fuckin’ punishing schedule!”

“They can adjust it to my needs. There’s still loads to be made in merch sales, there’s still a lot of fans counting on us. They don’t even know we’re goin’ on a hiatus after this. And we owe another album under our contracts.”

Zayn shrugs, unmoved. “Break the contract. I did.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t fuck anyone over with that, or anythin’,” Louis shoots back.

Zayn makes eye contact with him and gives him a hard little look. “Let’s get away from that topic, yeah?”

“Fine,” Louis snaps.

“I can’t… I can’t come _back_ to that tour, Louis,” Zayn says, rubbing at his beard. “Even if I wanted to at all, and I don’t. So what do you want from me? For this baby?”

Louis’ heart squeezes in his chest. He’s forced to reckon with the realization that, under all of his protestations of independence, he’s had a sort of running fantasy that Zayn would be so overwhelmed by the baby news as to want to make nice with everybody and join back onto the tour; not as part of the band, but perhaps as part of the entourage. That he and Zayn would get close again, and maybe make a go of it, and that either way someone would be there to make it easier on him, to rub his back at the end of the day. It’s crashing down around his ears that this is not going to happen.

Louis folds his arms.

“Come out to some dates,” he murmurs. “We’re in Toronto for a week at the end of August. Fly out and come see me, come to the doctor with me.”

Zayn nods. “I can do that. I can fly out, absolutely.”

He puts his head down on the table and clears his throat.

“I can’t leave the tour,” Louis says, his voice more frantic than he means it to be. He's terrified of the mere prospect of leaving -- of quitting, failing. “I just can’t.”

“If you just stayed here,” Zayn says, muffled by his own arms. “If you would just stay here and let me -- I could help you, Louis. Me and your mum and my mum.”

“Zayn, no,” Louis says, shaking his head vehemently. “I’m not going to put a hold on your life like that. Do your solo shit. Hang out with Naughty Boy. I don’t give a fuck.”

Zayn looks up at him. “I said sorry about that,” he says nastily. “I ‘ad no idea you were… I never would've -- whatever. Either way, don’t throw that in my face.”

“I just fuckin’ hate that prick, and you know that,” Louis snaps. “You’ve known it. But that’s not relevant.”

“No, it really isn’t,” Zayn mutters. “He and I barely talk anymore, but whatever.”

Louis had no idea, and is dizzied by this apparent whiplash in his affections. It occurs to him that Harry is right; they quite don’t know who Zayn is, anymore.

“I could keep workin’ on a solo career and take care of you, if you were here,” Zayn continues.

“Right,” Louis mutters. “It’s me who should end my career, got it.”

“You’re _pregnant!”_ Zayn says, louder than he likely meant to.

They sit there for a split second, both crushed under the weight of those two words, then Louis rounds on him. “So I’ve got to, what, be banished to the attic for the next six months?”

Zayn fists his hands on the table. “I can’t even talk to you right now, I don’t think,” he says bitterly. “I was just getting my life like I wanted it, y’know? I was free. Now you’ve tied us together for the rest of our lives, and you’re going to fucking fight me at every turn?”

“So sorry for inconveniencing you,” Louis snaps, getting up. He needs to get out of this room and away from Zayn. “I’ll shoot you off a text when I give birth, or summat. If you’re answerin’ me by then.”

He starts walking away and Zayn follows him.

“We can’t leave it like this,” he says.

Louis sighs and turns around. “Yeah? Can’t we?”

“TMZ’s got the story?” Zayn says, looking at Louis with one of his morose, doe-eyed expressions that used to make him want to wrap his legs around Zayn’s waist and now make him want to punch him. “The full story, like?”

“Basically,” Louis says, and folds his arms.

“You’re not going to say that it’s me that’s done it,” Zayn says.

“No.”

“But your reps will confirm you’re pregnant.”

Louis looks away and nods.

“So what do I do?” Zayn says. “What if I’m asked about you in an interview? People’ll know it’s mine at some point, you know? If I deny it now, I’ll look like a prick later.”

Louis shrugs, still not looking at him. “Do whatever you feel like,” he says. “Modest hasn't got any control over your mouth anymore, do they?”

“I mean, I’ve got NDAs, still,” Zayn says. “Just not about this.”

“I’m sure our legal will be in touch, now that you know,” Louis says. “I’d expect some paperwork messengered over tomorrow at the latest, in fact.”

Zayn snorts. “Right. Great. Love the privacy of that.”

“It is what it is, mate,” Louis says, dreading him starting in. “You left. I didn’t.”

“I want to be involved,” Zayn insists. “I do. I want to come to the doctor with you. I want to be there. I can’t let you leave here thinkin’ I don’t want that.”

Louis nods stiffly. “I’ll be in touch,” he says.

“Awfully warm of you,” Zayn says drily.

Louis spreads his hands. He can feel his ability to be pleasant drying up in the cold wind of his hurt. 

“Sorry,” he says, moving toward the door. Zayn follows him and sees him out to the curb, where Daniel is waiting, standing in the thin, yellow afternoon light. He gives Louis a sympathetic look as he walks down the front steps, which only serves to make Louis’ heartburn slightly worse.

“Best Yaser doesn’t actually kill you,” he chirps, as Zayn opens the passenger door for him. “I’m countin’ on that child support, y’know.”

Zayn snorts. “Does that mouth ever quit running?”

“For an hour on Sundays,” Louis says. He hesitates. There’s a lump in his throat again. “Look, I… I’ll text you, mate.”

They look at each other for a moment, both stunned, united in the enormity of what they’re staring down. Zayn looks very young to him, suddenly. Louis swallows.

“Call me,” Zayn corrects him, softly. “FaceTime me. Soon. Figure out a time I can fly out.”

“Fine, aye, I’ll do that.”

Zayn closes the door hard and waves, then disappears around the back of the car. Louis exhales heavily through his nose as he watches him disappear into the house, walking that slinky walk of his, but more subdued than usual. He pauses and lights a cigarette before he passes over the threshold.

“There goes my baby daddy,” Louis sings. “Watch him as he goes.”

Daniel laughs. “Want a milkshake?” he says.

“Really, I’d like for you to drive the car off a cliff,” Louis says, rubbing his eyes. “With me in it.”

“Milkshakes it is!” Daniel exclaims, buckling up.

 


	5. Chapter 5

ENGLAND, JULY 1, 2015

From the moment the story drops, Louis’ phone explodes non-stop.

He should go back to his mum’s house, he knows. He should be with his family. But he doesn't know if he could bear them tiptoeing around him, talking about him behind closed doors, treating him like he's sickly or someone to be pitied.

His friends call and call. All his mates from primary school, his entire lad crew that he's grown over the years in One Direction, nearly everyone on the tour who hadn't known yet. Lou leaves him five sympathetic voicemails full of advice and reassurance, which he listens to over his Bluetooth speakers as he sits on the floor of his shower letting the water pour over him. He's too tired to stand.

“What the fuck,” Calvin says in his voicemail. “Call me, man. Or call Oli. Like, right now.”

Louis doesn't call either of them. He gets in bed and stares at the ceiling fan and thinks increasingly murky thoughts. He wishes he could drink.

He finally does answer the phone to his mum, who tells him Trisha called.

“I did not pick up,” Jay says unpleasantly. “Haven't got much to say to that woman, today.”

“Like mother, like son,” Louis mutters.

Eleanor calls. He picks up for that one, too, because he thinks he owes it to her.

“So who's the father?” she asks breezily. “Or mother, I dunno.”

“Father,” Louis says. His words feel like they take a long time to reach his tongue, today. “I'd rather not discuss it.”

“Right,” Eleanor says, sounding disappointed, like she thinks he doesn’t trust her with it. He wishes she knew how hard it would be for him to admit it to her. “Okay. You're feeling alright?”

“Ahh.” He laughs mirthlessly. “Not today, I’m not.”

“It'll all blow over, you know.”

Louis rolls over onto his side. “I know,” he tells her.

“It's hardly that scandalous. You're not eighteen anymore.”

“I miss you,” he says softly.

Eleanor is quiet, and then huffs at him. “You're lonely, Louis,” she smart mouths him.

“Right,” he says, aching. “Yeah, still miss you, though.”

“I miss you too, sometimes,” she relents.

After they finish talking, Louis shuts his phone off and remains curled up in a little ball. He presses a hand to the very slight curve of his stomach. It radiates warmth.

Someone honks outside. He dismisses it as a passing motorist, and then the honking continues and grows more insistent. He gets up, discarding his depressive bathrobe and pulling on joggers and trainers.

He thinks it must be someone from back home, or maybe Lottie, but then he opens the door to see Liam in the drive, grinning and leaning against his Lamborghini with sunglasses shielding his eyes.

“Ay, who's that prick in my yard?” Louis calls.

Liam laughs and beckons him over. When Louis meets him, he pulls him into a bear hug and holds him for a while.

“You weren't answering your phone,” Liam murmurs into his ear. “Gave us a scare.”

“Was indulging my inner drama queen,” Louis says, trying to play it off light.

“Inner?” Liam says, pulling back and chuckling. “Make that inner, outer --”

“Very funny, Payno! Funny man! So where are we going?”

Liam shrugs. “We could go to my place? Or just drive around. Just wanted to keep you company today.”

Louis nods. “It's been loads of fun so far,” he says. “I liked that bit in the Sun about how, after Zayn’s cheatin’ scandal and now this, the band is obviously imploding entirely due to our unchecked sluttiness.”

Liam opens the passenger door for him. “Don’t read the Sun,” he admonishes.

“Good point,” Louis says, sliding in. He rests his chin in his hand and observes Liam as he starts the car and carefully looks over his shoulder so he doesn't crash into Louis’ gate as he pulls out.

“So you proposing to me...” Louis says, feeling cheeky.

Liam sighs. “Moment of insanity?”

Louis toys with a hole in his joggers. “What if I’d said yes?” he says.

“You wouldn't have!” Liam says, his cheeks reddening. His hands are very determinedly clutching the wheel at 10 and 2. “That's why it was a moment of insanity.”

“We’re already married enough, lad,” Louis teases him. “Work married. It's alright.”

“How's my husband, then?”

Louis’ heart swoops at the warm way Liam says that. He shrugs. “Survivin’.”

“How's baby?” Liam says, pushing his sunglasses up to perch on his hair.

“Guessin’ the baby is fine.”

“Haven't felt it move, yet?”

“That's about a month off, still,” Louis says.

They pull up to a stop sign and Liam obliges, rolling to a stop in the middle of London suburbia. “Can I?”

He reaches his hand out.

“Go for it,” Louis says, surprised. “Not much to feel, honestly.”

Liam places his hand on Louis too low, and Louis helps him out.

Liam smiles when his palm lands in the right spot.

“There's a bit of a -- dunno,” he says, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I can tell there's something there, from touching it. It doesn't feel like you've just been eating a lot of pastries.”

“Cheers,” Louis says, laughing.

Liam draws his hand back and continues on down the road. “So how was Zayn? Your texts weren't all that specific.”

Louis tenses up. “It was rather Sid and Nancy,” he says coolly. “Have you got all day?”

“Actually, I have,” Liam says, glancing over at him encouragingly.

Louis is immensely grateful for him, then, as he launches into a full-color version of what happened, and they continue winding through London. He feels safe for the first time all day, tucked away in a car with Liam. They make their own little world, wherever they are.

 

*

 

They drive around aimlessly for hours, talking. Liam finally offers to drop him back at home and stay with him, order him some dinner, but they're a ways up the road when they see the house has been surrounded by a nest of paps.

Louis calls Daniel. “Paps out front,” is all he says.

“Are you inside?”

“No, I'm in the car with Liam, round half a mile down the road.”

“Good. Get out of there.”

Louis looks at Liam, who nods and mouths, “Mine?”

Louis nods. Liam performs a sloppy three-point turn and starts driving fast toward Surrey, glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone’s trailing.

“Are they physically on the property?” Daniel asks. He’s put them on speaker, and Louis can hear the clacking of his iPhone keyboard as he talks.

“Some of ‘em, looked like.”

“We’ll take care of it. You going back to Liam’s?”

“Aye.”

“Right, then. I'll call Paddy.”

“Thanks,” Louis says, feeling weary. “For everythin’.”

“It's my job, mate,” Daniel says with a sigh. “Sorry for today.”

“Nothin’ I'm not used to.”

“Right, but this is quite personal, y’know? You should be afforded a modicum of privacy.”

Louis laughs, because the idea of that is just naive.

“In a perfect world, yeah?” he says.

 

*

 

At Liam’s, Louis wanders for a while, appreciating that he's got such massive grounds out here that one can walk for miles outside without paps being a problem. He’s in one of those nice moods of his, where his brain is fuzzy like TV static and crowded with too many awful thoughts for any one of them to get through in its entirety.

Liam’s got a few footballs laying out near the tennis court. Louis takes one and practices footwork for a while, until he’s sweating through his tank top and thoroughly exhausted. Then he picks it up, heaves it as far and as hard as he can, and heads toward the house.

Inside, he can hear Liam talking somewhere in the house as he toes off his trainers in the foyer. He follows the sound of his voice, thinking maybe he’s talking to Paddy, but halfway through the dining room he realizes Liam is on the phone in the kitchen. He sounds angry.

Louis approaches the Dutch door to the kitchen and presses his ear against it.

“Yeah, I’d say it is, actually!” Liam says in a nasty, bossy tone Louis hardly ever hears from him anymore. Then he’s quiet for a little while, long enough for Louis to start considering opening the door.

“No,” Liam says. “No, no, no, mate.”

Louis comes to the crashing, shuddering realization that he must be talking to Zayn. There’s a certain distinct way that each of them talk to each other, inimitable and instantly recognizable.

Heat rises in his chest and cheeks. He isn’t sure he wants to know exactly what they’re saying.

“No one would ask that of you,” Liam says, and there's another pause and a sigh. “No, of course you wouldn't. That would be bloody stupid. We don't want that, we’re getting on fine without you. No -- no, mate, that isn't a crack, it's the truth. I would hope it would make you feel better, actually. It's like no one can win, we’re either -- let me talk! -- we’re either punishing you or guilting you. You know? I'm not doing either. Not about the band. I just can't believe… Alright, yeah. I’m listening.”

Liam bumps around in the kitchen, moving pots and pans. He doesn't talk for a while. Louis’ heart is in his throat.

“Louis is -- you could count yourself extremely lucky if he'd even _have_ you,” Liam says. “And I know you’ve still got some sort of feelings for him, otherwise you wouldn't have been trying to check up on him behind his back this past month.”

Louis is struck by a very complex and discomfiting mix of emotions that cause his body to leap into motion before his brain has time to intervene. He opens the door, loudly, and strides in bouncily. Liam looks up.

“Hi,” Louis says, faking cheer. “Speak of the devil.”

Liam covers the phone with his hand. “Were you eavesdropping?” he demands.

“A bit,” he admits, coming over to the counter and popping some edamame into his mouth from a bowl Liam’s got out. “Sorry.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Tommo…!”

“Sorry!”

Liam returns the phone to his ear. “Yeah, he's here,” he says. “Did you have something to say to him?”

He drums his fingers on the counter, staring at Louis as he listens to Zayn. Louis prays the answer is no.

“Right,” Liam says. “Yeah. No, I know. Fine. Later, then. I'll talk to you.”

He hangs up and tosses his phone facedown on the counter.

“Didn't know you two were even in touch,” Louis says.

Liam sighs and slides his hands over the granite, making a conciliatory expression. “He started texting me at the end of May,” he says. “We’ve been talking since.”

“Hmm,” Louis says. “An’ he asked you about me?”

“Yep.”

“And you knew I was...”

“Yep,” Liam says shortly, turning and opening the fridge, then staring into it and making no moves to fetch anything.

“And you just glossed over that bit.”

“Yeah, I don't know," Liam mumbles. "It's between you two. It's not my business.”

“I just find it sort of funny,” Louis ribs him. “That's all.”

“In a fucked up, _Grey’s Anatomy_ sort of way,” Liam agrees.

Louis goes into a bad imitation of Liam’s voice, which is just his own voice but lower and goofier. “Oh, yeah, Zayn, ‘e’s fine! Nothin’ to see here! Bye now, I’ve got to go lift weights for eight hours!”

Liam gapes at him, acting wounded. “Stop!” he protests, trying not to laugh.

“So... he didn't want to talk to me?” Louis says, examining his fingernails.

Liam shuts the fridge and turns back around. “Not in front of me, no."

Louis furrows his eyebrows. "Not in front of you? He said that specifically?"

"I think he just meant in private."

Louis studies the counter-top, thinking. 

Liam looks at him uneasily. "But he asked if you'd call him later?”

“Fine.”

“His parents’ve been giving him hell all day, he said. The Mail namechecked him as a potential baby daddy for you, did you see that?”

Louis gives him a bemused eyeroll. “Aye, y’know, I woke up today, saw that the entire entertainment news industry was printin’ libelous garbage about me, and thought, first thing, hey, I ought to check the Mail!”

Liam winces. “Alright, stupid question.”

Louis shakes his head and says nothing, in favor of tapping out a beat on the counter. Liam joins in after a moment, accompanying him by rapping on a glass cookie jar with a large wooden spoon. They grin at each other.

“Hey,” Liam says, excited. “While you're here, let’s get some writing done. If you're up to it?”

“Payno,” Louis says, incredulous, sliding off his stool. “ _Always_.”


	6. Chapter 6

SAN DIEGO, JULY 9, 2015

“Can you tell?” Louis mutters to Mary, turning to the side. The sun’s just gone down, but it’s still sweltering hot backstage, and his fringe is sticking to his forehead.

She shakes her head. “ _No_ , love, for the eighth time!” she says, exasperated, as she disappears into Liam’s room to help him pick out a snapback for the night.

She’s put him a loose black Adidas tee and black skinnies. From some angles, he thinks he can see the slightest intimation of a bump. From others, he looks like his regular old self -- but with black Sea-Bands on his wrists, so he doesn’t vomit during the show.

“Got a bit of bad news for you, Louis,” Niall calls from where he’s getting a last coat of hairspray from Lou. “They sort of already know anyway, lad.”

“That isn’t the _point,_ ” Louis snaps, staring intently at himself in the mirror.

Harry steps out from behind a curtain, shaking his hair. He comes toward Louis and motions for him to turn in a circle. Louis obliges.

Harry shrugs. “Honestly? Really can’t tell,” he says.

Louis is grateful, for a moment, that Harry is who he is.

“I don’t get it,” Niall says, as his guitar is lowered onto his shoulders by a much taller member of security. “‘S not like he’ll get _less_ pregnant as the tour goes on, yanno?”

“It’s the first concert where they'll all know, Niall,” Harry says, looking over at him. “It's the principle of the thing, I think.”

Louis rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Just want to look, y’know, how I want to look,” he mutters.

Harry nods. “Clothes are important,” he says sagely.

Liam comes out, finally ready. He’s been stroppy all night, swapping outfits ten different times and berating himself about how off his voice sounded during sound check and how he boffed one of Zayn’s solos. He’s done this before -- fed off of Louis’ nervous energy or bad mood and made it his own.

He looks over at Louis and gives him a doleful smile. Louis shrugs at him.

“Who’s ready to fuck San Diego up?” Liam calls out, taking one last stab at getting into performer mode.

The crew gives a little cheer. Niall strums the opening chords of Act My Age and grins. Harry pats Louis on the back, and goes to put some more eyebrow gel on.

It’s Liam’s turn, then, to come up behind Louis. He wraps his hands around his waist and rests his chin on his shoulder.

“It’ll be over soon,” he murmurs, and pats his hip. “Before you know it.”

Louis nods.

 

*

 

For the first time, Louis finds out how profoundly loud the silence of fifty thousand people can be.

He comes out third at the start of Clouds, and a good half of the cheers are replaced by murmurs; he takes the mic during the first banter break, and nearly all sound in the stadium dies down in anticipation.

He doesn’t say anything about the baby, of course. First off, he’s in stage mode, his larger than life, more masculine persona, where his personal troubles cease to exist and he gets to play at being the best possible version of himself. And then their instructions are not to mention it on stage at all, anyway, even obliquely.

“There will be kids here,” Sam said the day prior, “obviously, whose parents are not going to want to have to explain out of wedlock pregnancy to them.”

“Right, but can someone explain it to _me_? I’m still not quite sure how this happened,” Louis cheeked back at him. Sam had snorted.

So he suffers through the silence, tries to break it with finely-tuned, top-notch banter while not in any way giving away that he's vibrating out of his skin from the punishing awkwardness of all of this. Slowly, the concert grows to more closely resemble the European dates. The fans seem to be twigging that nothing is going to be different, at least not as far as _they’re_ concerned.

Louis initially came out resolved not to read fan signs, but Liam and Niall point out a few of the nice ones to him, from girls in the closest rows. _You’re our favorite always, Louis!_ and _Theres five members of One Direction again :-)_ are the ones he chooses to acknowledge, winking at the girls holding the first one and grinning at the ones with the second.

Halfway through, he spots one a few rows back that says _Is it Grimmy’s?_ with cut-outs of Louis’ and Nick’s heads together in a giant heart. He nearly spits up the water he’s drinking.

Louis takes it easy, covering less total area of the stage and sitting more. He’s full of energy from the break and buzzing with adrenaline, but he thinks now is as good a time as any to get the fans used to seeing him slow down. He does talk on the mic more, and banters plenty with Liam, who keeps hovering and fussing over him, checking in with him and whispering to him.

Louis doesn’t mind, truly. But two-thirds of the way through the set, he does start shooting him in the face with a small water gun whenever he approaches, because Liam’s missed several cues at that point and it’s getting a bit ridiculous.

“Go sing your solo, Payno!” he shouts during Gotta Be You. Liam puts his hands up, grins and leaves him be.

 

*

 

That night, Liam tries to stop him looking at Twitter.

“You won’t find anything you like,” he warns him.

“I’m not lookin’ for what I’ll _like,_ ” Louis says. He sits half on his bed with one leg bent under him and one hung down, swinging, kicking the duvet. “I wanna know what people are saying.”

There are quite a lot of tweets trying to discern if he’s showing yet or not. TMZ’s verdict is yes, he looked a bit pregnant tonight. They provide unflattering crowd shots from below to prove this, which annoys Louis and makes him shift self-consciously on the bed.

People’s verdict is that he didn’t, really, but they eagerly await the day he does. US Weekly has him on Bump Watch. Fans just seem powerfully thankful he’s staying on, and that the tour will presumably continue.

 _girls next to us at san diego tonight were like crying from fear every time louis got on the mic_ , someone he follows tweeted. _same lmao #OTRA_

Briefly scanning his mentions, he spots another: _when the baby news came i honest to god thought louis would pull a zayn on us but tonight made me feel better yay @Louis_Tomlinson_

The Larries have decided that the baby must be Harry’s, and took their lack of interaction at the show as some bizarro, mirror universe confirmation of this.

Louis finally tosses his phone aside. “Let’s watch a movie,” he says decisively.

“Have you fully traumatized yourself, now?” Liam says, setting his own phone down.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Please, it's really not been that bad. And I like to think I’m made of sterner stuff than that.”

“You are,” Liam says, quiet. He looks at Louis. For a moment, his warm, dark eyes betray a wide gulf of sorrow, then he seems to recognize this and his face returns to normal as if a switch has been flipped. “What movie?”

“Ahh,” Louis says. “That's the question, innit? How long’s it been since we last watched _The Damned United_?”

“‘Bout an entire week, I'd say,” Liam says, chuckling.

“Pop it in then.”

Liam obliges, hooking up Louis’ laptop to the TV. Louis watches him. He feels very warm toward him, for reasons he isn’t entirely sure of.

When Liam lies back down next to him, Louis nudges him with his toe. “Hey.”

“Sup?”

“I've got an appointment with Joan next week. I get to find out the sex. Want to sit in with me?”

Liam goes still and doesn't respond for a few moments. “Do you want to fly Zayn out?” he finally says.

Louis shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Liam nods, hesitantly, like he thinks he might not be allowed. “Sure, I can come, then.”

He starts the movie.

“It just hurts,” Louis murmurs. “Seein’ him. I need some time, I've got to lick my wounds.”

“You could still make a go of it,” Liam says, rolling over so he can look at Louis. “You could.”

Louis shakes his head. “Nah,” he says, looking down and away and feeling tight all over -- in his jaw, in his throat, in his muscles. “Not after -- not the way things are, now. I felt it when we talked.”

“You ought to at least ask,” Liam says, sounding like his heart isn't in it. “Find out how he feels. See if things’d be different if you weren't just asking him to be a dad, if you were asking him to be with you.”

“Enough, alright?” Louis says, his voice a bit raw. “Let's just get to the movie, I’m knackered.”

“Louis, I'm dead serious.”

Louis is still for a moment, then he gets up. “Fine! Back in a bit,” he says, and takes his phone into the bathroom.

He sits on the edge of the bath and rings Zayn. He doesn't answer at first, so he rings him again, cursing him as he does.

“‘Lo?” Zayn says, finally. He sounds stoned. Louis hears music in the background. He wonders if it's something Zayn wrote.

“It's me,” Louis says.

“I know,” Zayn says, coughing.

“Right,” Louis says. He cracks a knuckle. Already, he's getting nervy and regretting having called.

“Something wrong?” Zayn says.

“No,” Louis says immediately. “I was just thinking… it’d be stupid for us to try to make a go of it, wouldn't it?”

Zayn is quiet for too long. Louis feels humiliation burning in his nose and throat.

“Wouldn't be stupid,” Zayn says. “Wouldn't work, though.”

He sounds bitterly sad. His voice is like a cold wind over the phone.

Louis clears his throat. The stinging, bone-deep hurt of this situation is too much for him. He feels himself shutting down. He forces the image of them together out of his head.

“You resent me, it's obvious,” Zayn continues. “For leaving the band, and for…”

He can't seem to bring himself to say it. Louis grows uncomfortably aware of being pregnant.

“And you won't come home,” Zayn says, sounding resigned. “You won't.”

“No,” Louis says, emboldened by defiance. “You're right. Not comin’ home, no.”

“And I'm not coming out and joinin’ that fuckin’ tour,” Zayn says sharply. “You know I'm not.”

“Didn't ask,” Louis snaps. He steels himself, makes himself rigid. He reminds himself that Zayn isn’t who he used to be. He reminds himself that maybe this is all for the best.

Zayn goes silent again. Overhead, the fluorescents flicker faintly as Louis stares fixedly at them, queasy.

“I've got feelings for you, you know that,” Zayn says, his voice tender but ragged. Louis digs his nails into his palm at the sound of it, and shakes his head, willing those words not to penetrate his skin. “I miss you. But it isn't enough, is it? Wouldn't be enough for us to, y’know, make it. Not for very long.”

“We shouldn't be together,” Louis says, his chest aching. “We're both too selfish. Two selfish people don't work.”

“You aren't selfish,” Zayn mutters. “Just stubborn.”

The unspoken hangs between them: that Zayn _is_ selfish. That Louis should expect less from him, that he should look down the barrel of going it on his own and come to grips with what he sees.

“I've got to go,” Louis says, all of a sudden doubly as exhausted as he was before.

“Right," Zayn says quietly. "Ring me soon.”

“Yeah.”

Louis hangs up and takes a moment to be wholly engulfed in his own regret and disappointment. He runs his hands through his hair, and inhales hard through his nose. He tells himself to be a man, and if he can’t do that, to be like his mum. He wishes he could smoke a cigarette, or have some bud and a Xanax and fall into a dreamless sleep.

He gets up, steadying himself on the wall as he does, and returns to Liam, who looks over at him in the darkness with a deeply hangdog expression.

“He agrees with me,” Louis says simply, getting no joy out of it.

Liam fiddles with his watch. “I'm sorry,” he says, pained, like it’s something he’s done.

“Don't be,” Louis says, settling back down next to him and staring straight ahead. “Just put the movie on and let's quit talking about it.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

SEATTLE, JULY 15, 2015

“There it is,” Joan says, and indicates a spot on the laptop screen. “There’s baby. Hear the heartbeat?”

“Sick,” Louis says, squinting at the same time as he keeps his ears pricked for the soft _whoosh, whoosh_ sound. He loves that sound. “Don’t know what I’m looking at, but sick.”

“I sort of see,” Liam says. “Is that the head?”

“What I just pointed to? That was a hand,” Joan says.

“Right,” Liam says, sheepishly. “I don’t see it, then.”

Louis sits up a bit.

“Oh, you’ve messed me up now, Louis,” Joan chides him, as the sonogram goes darker and wobbly. “You did this last time, and I never found it again before you had to run off to soundcheck.”

“Well, I can’t see lyin’ down like that,” Louis complains.

Liam gets up and starts looking for another pillow, then motions for Louis to lean forward so he can slide it behind his back. They’re in a room at the top floor of the Hotel 1000; Niall was in here earlier hanging out with them, and so there’s a paused game of FIFA on the TV in the background. Light rain patters the windows as Louis lies there in bed, his tank hiked up so Joan can press the wand to the still-subtle curve of his stomach.

“There you go,” she says triumphantly, as she presses the wand against him a bit more firmly.

Louis shakes his head. “Point everything out to me again.”

Liam comes closer, knees pressed to the side of the bed. He’s leaning forward so far he looks like he’s about to tip onto his face. Louis pats the bed next to him.

“Just sit down, lad.”

“Oh,” Liam says, apprehensive. “Can I?”

Louis turns to him and rolls his eyes. “No, you haven’t been scrubbed in, better stay away!”

Liam laughs.

“Yeah, c’mere.”

Liam sits down next to him, socks him very gently on the shoulder, then puts a hand on Louis’ arm and leans over. Joan glances over at him and raises her eyebrows, then waves her hand at the screen like a frustrated magician.

“I see it!” Liam says excitedly. “The head. See there?”

Louis looks harder, and after a moment the picture becomes clear to him. His heart speeds up, and blood seems to be going away from his brain. He stares, barely comprehending.

“It has a head,” he says in awe.

“Well, I should hope so, mate!” Liam says, laughing.

“And a little nose. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Louis says. He reaches out and grabs Liam’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Fuck, fuck. I’ve fucking gone and made a tiny person, and it’s got a nose _._ ”

Liam squeezes his hand. “It’s okay,” he assures him.

Louis stares at the screen, transfixed. “Print that out for me?” he says to Joan.

“I’ve captured a few images for you already,” Joan says. “And I’ve actually just spotted the sex as well. Want to know?”

Louis sucks in a breath. It’s a daunting proposition. It’s going to make everything that much more real.

“Yeah,” he finally says. “I’d like to know.”

Liam leans down and bumps temples with him. Louis turns and presses his forehead against the side of Liam’s bristly cheek, suddenly superstitious of looking at the screen.

“It’s a girl,” Joan says cheerfully. “You’ve got a baby girl.”

Louis’ heart suddenly feels like it’s too big for his chest. A giant smile breaks over his face and he turns back to her. “ _Really?_ ”

She nods.

Liam squeezes his hand. “That’s perfect,” he says.

“Hand me my phone?”

Liam obliges. Louis taps off a text to the group chat, first.

 

_its a girl !_

Harry Styles

_Lol, of course it is. Congrats xxxxxx_

 

Nialler

_GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRLLlllllllllllll! good work there_

_hahahahaha harrys right you sorta had to have a girl_

_will you make her play footie_

_of course lads_

 

Liams NotALad

_I’m sitting here next to him and hes freaked out cos she has a nose_

 

Louis elbows Liam for this. He just laughs.

 

Harry Styles

_Did he not want her to...?_

 

Joan removes the wand from his belly and he tugs his shirt back down. She packs up the sonogram and sits, waiting, as the machine prints out a few photos for him. Louis returns to his phone and texts Jay _dont know what it is about our family and girls, but we’re about to have another !_ She immediately texts back in about forty exclamation points. _CALL ME!_ she says.

 _In a mo_ , he texts back, and then finally navigates to his iMessage with Zayn.

His thumbs hover over the keyboard for a while; long enough for the photos to finish printing. Joan tries to get his attention, and then just gives up and hands them to Liam.

“See you in Pittsburgh,” she says, “in the meantime keep eating well, getting rest, taking your vitamins, and so on…”

Louis waves to her absent-mindedly.

“What’s up?” Liam says, setting the prints on the bed and peering over his shoulder. Louis clears his throat.

“Just… not sure how to say it,” he says.

“Send a picture,” Liam suggests.

Louis takes a photo of the sonograms, and adds _it’s a girl._ Period and all. He tosses his phone aside.

“He takes ages to text back, anymore,” Louis mutters. “I’m getting in the shower. Want to grab a bite after, before rehearsals?”

“Yeah, haven’t we got some Seattle friends who wanted to meet up?” Liam says.

Louis nods. “Text some people while I’m in there, see who’s down.”

He closes the bathroom door and is getting undressed when Liam calls, “Tommo!”

“Yeah?”

“He texted back.”

Louis stares at himself in the mirror over the sink. His face is a wee bit fuller, these past few weeks, and his cheeks are rosier as well.

“What’d he say?” he calls back.

“He said that’s great, and that of course you two made a girl, it makes sense. He asked if she’s healthy?”

“‘Course she’s healthy,” Louis says under his breath, fixing his hair. “Would’ve told him if she wasn’t…”

“Should I text back for you?”

“No, leave it,” Louis says, and he turns and starts the shower running. “I’ll get back to him later.”

 

*

 

Louis never does get back to him. He and Liam go out to a juice bar for lunch and meet up with some people, then join up with the boys to rehearse their Canadian set. Afterward, Harry goes to hang out with some of his friends who run a fashion weekly out of Portland, and Liam, Louis and Niall end up at a dive bar with some of Macklemore’s backing band.

They’re all laughing their arses off at a horror story the bassist has about stopping one of Kendrick’s entourage from knocking Macklemore out after the Grammys, when Louis’ phone starts ringing in his pocket. He excuses himself and heads outside, figuring it’s his mum wanting to talk more, but it’s Zayn.

“Hey,” Louis says, as he closes the door behind him. He’s alone in the alley. His fingers twitch for a cigarette, but he steels himself against the craving.

“Never hit me back,” Zayn says tersely, by way of a hello.

“Sorry,” Louis says. “Busy.”

“Too busy to send a two word text? ‘Cos Liam just posted a snap at a bar, and you were in it.”

Louis rolls his eyes and leans his back against the brick wall. “Yeah, I’m havin’ a beer or five.”

“Y’know, not everythin’ is funny.”

“What do you want me to say?” Louis says, bristling. “She’s healthy, obviously. We all got out of rehearsal, we’re blowing off steam. I’m headed back soon.”

Zayn is silent. “I dunno if I can do it like this,” he says.

“Like _what_ ,” Louis says, exasperated, the words coming out with a heavy space in between them.

“You’re so angry with me,” Zayn says sharply. “And pushing me away, keeping me out. What’s it going to be like when the baby comes? More of that?”

Louis takes the phone away from his ear and drops his hand. He counts to ten. Let it out, let it be, let it go. He presses his other hand to the warm swell of his stomach. It still feels strange to do. He thinks about her, tucked away inside him, and all that he already wants for her.

He puts the phone back to his ear.

“Louis? You there?” Zayn says.

“I’m here. I’m not pushing you away,” Louis says wearily, “an’ don’t interrupt me, alright? Christ. I’m still licking my wounds, and you’ll have to just let me. I won’t be forever.”

“So when can I fly out, then?”

Louis counts in his head as he thinks about the tour schedule. “After Canada,” he says.

“Fine. When?”

“We’re in Pittsburgh for a few days before we head to Jersey, and I’ve got a doctor’s appointment. Does that work?”

 _“When,_ Louis? I don’t know the tour schedule anymore.”

“Beginning of August. Fifth of August, I think?”

Zayn remains quiet. Louis hates it when he does that. He always imagines him sitting somewhere in the dark, smoking with sunglasses on and thinking uncharitable thoughts about how irritating and whiny Louis is.

“That’s fine,” Zayn says, with obvious great effort expended to keep his voice light and even. “I can meet you in Pittsburgh.”

“I’ll tell everyone to be on their best behavior,” Louis says, stiffly. “Crew and the boys and everybody. To not give you a hard time or anythin’.”

“I’d appreciate that, actually,” Zayn says quietly. He sounds young and meek. “Like, I mean it.”

Louis feels a stab of fondness for him, despite himself.

They say goodbye and hang up. Louis takes the time out in the quiet alley to respond to some texts. His favorite is from Lou: she responded to the news that it’s a girl by sending him the woman dancing in a red dress emoji, a crying emoji, and a load of pink hearts.


	8. Chapter 8

PITTSBURGH, AUGUST 6

“No, no, no,” Louis exclaims in frustration, ripping off a pair of skinny jeans and heaving them across the fitting room, where it's just him and Lou.

“Everythin’ fits so _weird_ , now,” he says, demoralized, standing there in his boxers and sock feet.

“Welcome to trimester two,” Lou says, with a knowing grin. She holds a finger up and goes to rummage for more options.

“It's fuckin’ stupid,” Louis says. “It doesn't look right, any of it. I’m turnin’ into a fucking weeble wobble.”

Lou comes back out, rolling her eyes at him. “You know Mary has told me you're like, the daintiest little person she's ever dressed?”

“Where's my waist goin’, then?” Louis mutters darkly. “I've got a nice waist --”

“Okay, that's quite enough, Scarlett O’Hara. You look _fine_ , you actually wear it quite well. Try these jeans, they’ve got elastic.”

Louis feels a sort of resigned despair. “ _Elastic_ ,” he chokes out.

“Louis, you're four months pregnant!” Lou says, exasperated. “Yes, elastic! That way you don't have to go up a size? Which you really don't need to do, other than to zip up?”

He knows she's right, and so puts on a pair while grumbling.

Lou looks down, fiddling with a tangle of necklaces she's wearing. “Look, I understand it'll be hard on you to see him.”

Louis sighs, turning to the side and taking in his reflection. He pulls a Black Sabbath tank over his head. The silhouette is good. The tighter pants are much more flattering to his nice legs and arse, which he appreciates.

He _is_ wearing it well, but it still feels like a cruel joke that he finally burned off all the baby fat he's always been so insecure about, only to immediately get pregnant.

“Zayn?” Louis mutters, realizing she’s waiting for him to respond. “Been trying not to think about it.”

“He's a piece of work,” Lou says nastily. “Doing this and running off.”

He sets his jaw. “Listen…”

“No, I mean it. I don't even know who that kid is anymore.”

Louis thinks it’s easier not to argue. He’s growing to hate the flawed premise everyone has adopted, that he’s this jilted, naive innocent, pregnant and abandoned by the enemy. Since he was very young, he's always thought of himself a certain way, and _innocent_ isn't it.

He sees how this narrative works to his advantage, though, and how vital it will become to the preservation of the band’s image when everyone finds out who the father is.

So he looks at Lou, and grins, and says, “You've still got us,” a bit hollowly.

She beams back. “Yeah, and look how cute you are,” she says fondly. “With your wee little baby bump.”

Louis looks at himself again. “Is it wee?”

Lou clucks her tongue. “ _Yes_ , Louis.”

“Just checking.”

“You know, I've always thought pregnant men were quite sexy,” Lou says. “There's something like nurturing, there, but strong, you know? Protective.”

“You're blowing sunshine up my arse,” he tells her.

“I sincerely mean it,” Lou says. She eyes him knowingly. “I think somebody else thinks so, too.”

Louis is confused. “And who would that be?” he says. “D’you think I should I wear somethin’ more conservative?”

“No, your style is your style,” Lou says. “Plus it's hot out. And you know exactly who I mean.”

Louis looks at her, his attention fully rapt, now. “No…?”

Lou makes an O with her mouth and starts busying herself clearing up. “Would you like a quick trim? Personally, I like a bit of length for you, but --”

“Who?” he says, coming over and getting obnoxiously in her face. “Who, tell me.”

Lou goes pink and tucks her white-blonde hair behind her ears. “I really thought you knew,” she says, “and if you don't, I oughtn’t blow their spot…”

“ _Who_?” Louis demands.

Lou sighs.

“I've just noticed, y’know, Liam’s been quite doting, lately,” she says, and shrugs.

Louis experiences a choppy little wave of disappointment that hits him gut-first. “ _Liam_? He just feels guilty,” he says, deflated. “And sorry for me.”

Lou shakes her head ever-so-slightly. “If you say so.”

“That's just who he is, Lou, he's responsible, and he's sensitive, an’ all that. And he's my best mate and he wants to make it easier on me.”

Lou looks up at him. “I've known you five for quite a long time,” she says.

Louis is confused. “So?”

“So…” she tosses her eyebrow kit into her bag. “So I do see things. But if you say no, you'd know better than I would.”

“That's not our relationship,” Louis argues, wanting to get away from this topic. “That isn't how we are with each other. Even when we flirt, it's not _real_ , s’all just like, banter. Lad stuff.”

“I thought Liam wasn't a lad,” she teases him gently.

Louis laughs. “He's my boy, that's why.”

Lou gives him a soft look, and holds her tongue for a moment.

“Would you like things to change?” she finally says.

Louis shakes his head on reflex, not even allowing himself to consider what she's saying. It hurts him too much to. “It just isn't on the table.”

“Fine,” she says, putting her hands up in surrender. “End of discussion. Let's get you out of here and back upstairs to wait for he who ought to remain nameless.”

“Right,” Louis mutters. His hand goes reflexively to his stomach, the way one worries at a hole where a tooth was; he's still unused to the presence of the bump.

“Hey,” Lou says to him. “Have you ever heard Lauryn Hill’s solo album?”

“No,” he says, confused.

She smiles at him in a very motherly way. “Listen to that.”

 

*

 

“‘E’s fuckin’ late,” Louis says, pacing. “I can't believe this.”

“His flight might have been late,” Liam soothes him. They're out in the hall of their floor, waiting by the elevator. Security hang around, clearly bored out of their wits. Joan is tucked away in one of the rooms, waiting patiently with her ob-gyn equipment.

“‘E’s a fuckin’  twat, and if ‘e’s not here in the next five minutes --” Louis holds up a hand with five fingers splayed out, to emphasize “-- e’d better not come at all!”

Liam bounces his leg nervously. “I've just texted him that every minute he isn't here, you get more Yorkshire and more scary. Will you sit down, please?”

“I’ve got too much energy,” Louis says.

Liam makes a familiar gesture of surrender that indicates he doesn't agree but would prefer not to argue.

The elevator dings and opens. Liam and Louis both whip their heads around like owls, staring intently as Zayn appears and steps into the hall.

He spots them and walks over, slowly, looking down and not meeting their eyes.

“Hey,” Zayn says, as he gets close. He eyes Liam, like he's a bit confused by his continued presence.

“I'll get going,” Liam says, standing and hovering awkwardly. “Leave you to it. Niall and I were going to try a microbrewery down the road, so.”

“Have fun,” Louis chirps, sort of enjoying the suspicious way Zayn is looking at Liam.

“I, uh,” Liam says, starting to make a move to come toward Zayn and seeming to think better of it. “Good to see you again, mate.”

“You too, bruv,” Zayn says edgily.

Liam claps him on the shoulder and strides away. They both watch him as he leaves. Louis feels a prickly warmth in his gut.

Zayn turns to Louis. “So,” he says. He takes a step back from Louis and gives him a look over. Louis gets the strange urge to cross his arms.

“You’re showing,” Zayn informs him.

“Yeah, have been for a bit,” Louis says shortly.

“You weren't last I saw you, that's all.”

“Haven't been seeing photos from shows?”

“Not if I can help it,” Zayn says coolly.

"Cheers."

“It's not a slam on you lot,” Zayn says, running a hand through his short-cropped dark hair. “Just… y’know.”

Louis nods. “I get it.”

“You look good,” Zayn says. He sounds sincere. “Growin’ your hair out?”

“Seemed like as good a time as any.”

“Right,” Zayn says. “That’s how I felt about cutting mine off.”

They smirk at each other, meeting on a certain level. Louis begrudges Zayn a lot of things these days, but he'll never pretend he doesn’t empathize with the quiet horrors of being trapped, and the satisfaction of clawing your way out.

“Can I feel?” Zayn says quietly.

It's only in this moment that it occurs to Louis how much he's disconnected himself lately from the idea of Zayn being his baby's father. For a moment, he truly has no idea what Zayn is asking.

“Well, obviously,” Louis says, looking at him funny.

“Right, but I know you,” Zayn says, with a rueful laugh. “Figured I ought to ask or risk gettin’ smacked.”

“Good call,” Louis says.

He leans against the paisley, gold-inlaid wall beside them to steady himself as Zayn reaches out and cups one hand to Louis’ side, and the other to the curve of his stomach.

After a moment, Louis feels a now-familiar flutter inside of him. “Oh,” he says, his voice rising in surprise.

Zayn glances up. “Alright?”

“She moved,” Louis says, smiling, feeling warm all over. “Feel it?”

“I don't think so…”

Louis takes his hand and moves it upward a bit. “Wait a sec... she'll do it again.”

She does, and Louis grins.

“I still couldn't,” Zayn says, sounding genuinely disappointed. “That's wicked, though... Team zap really made a baby.”

He sounds reverent. Heat comes up behind Louis’ eyes, and he blinks fast.

“Damn right we did,” he says, clearing his throat.

“She do that a lot?” Zayn says.

Louis shakes his head. “Not on cue like that. Sometimes when...”

He trails off, and Zayn glances at him.

“Sometimes when my heart’s going faster,” he murmurs.

Zayn straightens up, his hands falling away. “Nervous?” he says.

“Over seein’ you? A bit,” Louis says.

“I'm the one who ought to be nervous,” Zayn says. “Comin’ back here. Sam spotted me on my way up, yelled at me that I've got a lot of nerve.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I told him not to bother you.”

Zayn reaches out and cups Louis’ jaw with his hand, gazing at him. Louis stares back, his heart pounding in his chest. The quiet in the hallway is suddenly quite a bit louder.

Zayn kisses him, tenderly. There's no tongue or teeth to it. It tastes bittersweet, like a goodbye. He wraps his arms around Louis, one around his back with his fingers in Louis’ hair and another at his waist, stroking where the baby is with his thumb.

Real tears start to rise in Louis’ eyes, then. He pulls away from Zayn and takes a hard breath to compose himself.

Zayn rests his forehead against Louis’ shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he murmurs.

Louis strokes his back and shakes his head, blinking furiously. “Don't be,” he says.

“It wouldn't work,” Zayn says, pulling back. “I know it wouldn't work. Why do I want you to come home with me? You'd resent me, it'd be awful. It'd ruin any nice feelings we had left about each other. I just keep picturing you…”

“Barefoot and pregnant? There to come home to every day? No life of my own?” Louis recites. He spent so many nights now lying awake, hand to his belly as he considers the possibility of cutting his losses and going home, that the reasons not to do so roll right off his tongue, one right after the other. “It isn't me, mate. You know that. I’d resent it, I’d regret it, an’ then we'd make each other miserable.”

“I don't want that,” Zayn says adamantly. “I don’t want things fucked up like that.”

“Good.”

There's a silence between them that could swallow their good will, if they let it.

“I first felt her move onstage, actually,” Louis says. “Last week.”

“Yeah?” Zayn says. “That fits.”

Louis nods. He leaves out the bit where his first instinct was to run to Liam, drag him backstage for a moment and make him try to feel, and that they both laughed hysterically, breathlessly, and embraced each other in joy. He leaves out that one of his in-ears came out in the commotion and Liam had picked it up and pushed it back in, with the same gentleness to his hands as he'd had when he took Louis’ to propose to him.

“Just waiting for her to start kickin’,” Louis says, and leads him down the hall toward where the doctor’s waiting. “Then we'll see if she's cut out to play at forward.”

 

*

 

Louis is almost asleep when Liam comes back, drunk, and lets himself into his room.

“Hey,” Louis says softly as Liam staggers around, trying to get his shoes off.

“Hey,” Liam whispers. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No,” Louis assures him. “Can't sleep. You good?”

“Just had a few too many,” Liam says. “Wanted to pop in, visit with you…”

“C’mere,” Louis says, and beckons him over.

He watches as Liam stands unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off. He's struck by a sudden pang of loneliness. He wants Liam to come to him, right now. He wants to be soothed somehow.

Liam does come to him and lie down next to him. They don't touch. Louis sits frozen in the darkness, staring at the ceiling. He dimly registers that his back aches, and that the air conditioning is making his throat dry. His pulse is thudding hard and his skin is warm. He kicks the covers away.

“What happened today?” Liam says. “With Zayn?”

His voice is throaty and a little lackluster, like he doesn't actually want to hear about Zayn.

“It was fine,” Louis says. “He saw the sonogram, thought it was cool, we got lunch at the hotel and he headed out.”

Liam nods, his face devoid of expression.

Louis thinks better of it and sighs. “Actually, it was sort of fucked up.”

“Yeah?” Liam rolls over, looking at him.

“He kissed me,” Louis says.

Upon hearing this, Liam makes a soft noise way in the back of his throat that's so undeniably heartbroken it hurts Louis to hear.

“Liam,” Louis says in amazement, and he sits up.

Liam stares at him with wide, pained eyes. “Sorry, I just --”

“It was like a goodbye kiss,” Louis says. “Where we agreed we shouldn't be together. It hurts, but -- I mean, it didn't mean anything, Payno --”

Liam shakes his head very firmly, like he's trying to keep something at bay.

“What does it matter to me?” he says.

Louis stares at him, an eyebrow arched. He feels safe here, in the dark, safe enough to ask a question he thinks he might have puzzled out the answer to. “Hey…”

Liam looks over at him.

“Why’d you break up with Sophia? You never really said.”

Liam rolls onto his back again. He looks at the ceiling. His jaw is tight.

“Liam.”

“Because of you,” he whispers.

Louis closes his eyes. He feels light-headed. “Liam…”

“When you and I spent Valentine’s together,” Liam whispers, his words each like little urgent telegrams. “Because the girlfriends weren't there. And we just were goofing around and having fun. But she said to me -- she said, somehow she knew, she said, _you've got feelings for him, don't you?_ ”

Louis can hardly breathe for what he's hearing.

“And I couldn't deny it,” Liam says, his face crumpled with sadness. “So we broke up. And you were with Eleanor, and I couldn't figure out how to tell you, or even if I should. And then you weren't with Eleanor, but Zayn left, and then the baby --”

“Liam --”

“ _Zayn’s_ baby --”

Louis rolls over on the bed and pulls Liam onto his side, and then kisses him deeply on the mouth.

Liam reacts with dazed shock at first, not moving, and then he grabs Louis and pulls him in close, his hands gentle while his kiss is rough, needy and raw. He strokes Louis’ hair like it's spun from gold. He tastes like beer, but his lips feel wonderful. Louis feels pleasant spasms and shudders down his spine from how good the kiss is.

“Liam, it's you I want,” Louis murmurs, drawing back. “You dumbarse. You're the one that's good to me, you're the one that fits with me --”

Liam gazes at him with naked, undeniable adoration in his dark eyes. For the first time in ages, Louis allows himself to consciously acknowledge that Liam is quite handsome, that their bodies have chemistry.

He gets on top of Liam and straddles him. Liam holds onto his thighs as they kiss, deeper and harder until they're pawing at each other in need, and Louis is yanking on Liam's hair and Liam is breathlessly whispering his name, big hands wrapped around his waist. They rub their cocks against each other, all dry friction and shifting fabric.

“Fuck me,” Louis moans. He's rock-hard and wants it desperately. “Fuck me, please, Liam, God, I haven't been fucked in so long --”

“No, no,” Liam says, gripping his hips and looking like he wants to be saying anything else. “No, I can't, Louis --”

“Fuck me,” Louis begs, whining, his voice steadily rising in pitch. The omega instincts in him are fanning their tendrils out through every part of his body. He's pliant and needy in Liam's arms.

“The baby, Louis, Zayn's baby, who _does_ that?” Liam cries, his face bright red as Louis slides his hand over his weeping cock. “I can't --”

“Fuck me,” Louis murmurs, one last time, his face flushed and lips tingly with arousal, looking up at Liam through his eyelashes.

 

*

 

Liam fucks him that night, very tenderly, and then a tiny bit harder at Louis’ urging. They gaze at each other as Liam moves in him, utterly overwhelmed by the reality of finally being together. Liam looks at him like he’s a revelation, stroking his hair from his face and kissing him constantly. Afterward, he sucks Louis’ cock with his full lips and eager mouth, and Louis sees stars behind his eyes for the first time in a good while.

When it's all said and done, they lie side by side. Louis breathes heavily, in and out, his mind blanker than it’s been in months. Every inch of him feels fantastic. He could sleep for days after being fucked like that.

“Zayn's going to kill me,” Liam whispers. “He _ought_ to kill me.”

“Oh, whatever!” Louis scoffs, emboldened by euphoria. “We aren't together! You've been more of a father to this baby than he has --”

“Don't _say_ that,” Liam cries. “This is what I was afraid of, God!”

“It'll be alright, lad, I promise you.”

“I feel evil,” Liam says. “I feel like those birds that lay eggs in other birds nests.”

Louis looks over at him. “Sorry?”

“You know! The evil birds, that make the little birds raise their massive, horrid babies --”

“Cuckoo? The cuckoo birds?”  

“Yes! Them!”

“Liam, but in that scenario, Zayn is the cuckoo bird.”

Liam gestures in exasperation. “I'm _some_ sort of evil bird,” he splutters.

“Or maybe you're just a good man who wants to do the right thing,” Louis says.

Liam's quiet. “It really isn't just that,” he says. “I do really have feelings for you. I have for a while. This has just brought them all up really strongly.”

Louis doesn't say what he's thinking, which is that right now part of him wishes Liam had been the one to get him pregnant. “I do get that, lad.”

“Have you got feelings for me?” Liam says, glancing at him.

Louis snorts and rolls his eyes. “I had a crush on you for ages, you know,” he admits, all his trepidation and prickly defenses undone by the reality of the needy, desperate sex they just had.

“No!” Liam says, shocked.

“But I knew if anyone would be a stickler for the fraternization rules, it'd be your lame arse.”

“ _Feelings_ , though,” Liam says, his brow knit with needy worry.

“Oh, Liam, I adore you, you know that,” Louis assures him. “And you've really won me lately. Like, you've been a prince. I couldn't ask for better,” he says, snuggling up in the crook of his arm. Liam strokes his forearm and then takes his hand. “So, yeah, absolutely. I was being stubborn, I thought you just felt sorry for me.”

“I never feel _sorry_ for you,” Liam murmurs, and kisses his head. “You're tough as nails. Sometimes I just can't help get upset with how you're treated, is all.”

“Hey, me too,” Louis says, laughing.

There’s a little moment of wonderful, comfortable quiet. Louis is about to fall asleep, and then he whispers with a smile on his face, “You proposed to me.”

“Oh, Tommo…” Liam murmurs. “Forget it.”

“I don’t want to,” Louis says, gazing at him. “Can we put a pin in it, instead?”

Liam goes very still, and holds Louis more tightly.

“Yes,” he says softly.


	9. Chapter 9

COLUMBUS, AUGUST 15

Louis and Liam continue having sex, sending Liam into cyclic paroxysms of guilt that Louis has to talk him down from.

Liam starts to dodge Zayn’s texts and calls. Louis only finds this out because Zayn texts him saying, _any reason liam wont talk to me?_

Louis is getting ready backstage when he gets this, and squints at his phone through a cloud of hairspray. _hes been busy_ he says back, at a loss for any other response.

At night, they're in their own little world, negotiating. Louis is hormonal and horny, and wants Liam blowing him near-constantly. Liam is clearly going through a lot, emotionally, and does things like tenderly kiss Louis’ belly and then ashamedly sequester himself on the other side of the bed, refusing Louis’ touches and insisting that he's done wrong by Zayn.

On August 15 it's late, around ten, when someone rings Liam. Liam is in the shower, and Louis is in bed next to the phone, ignoring it as he scrolls Twitter.

The call goes to voicemail, and then it rings a second time. Louis, annoyed, picks up without looking at it.

“Yeah?” he says.

There's silence and then a throat-clearing that sounds deeply familiar. Louis’ blood runs cold.

“Why are you answerin’ Liam's phone?” says Zayn.

Louis remains a cool customer in the face of this. “I'm hanging out in his room, mate, as I actually do all the time.”

“Put him on.”

“He's in the shower.”

This leads to another, more brooding and reproachful silence.

“Is somethin’ goin’ on between you two?” Zayn says sharply.

Louis sits up in bed, fumbling for something to say that isn't a direct denial.

“Zayn…” he says, at a loss.

It's the wrong answer. Zayn sucks in air through his teeth.

“Holy shit,” he hisses. “Holy fuckin’ shit. Tell me there isn't.”

The shower stops. Louis feels nauseated.

“Zayn,” he says weakly. “Why are you even asking?”

“I'm not stupid, you know?” Zayn snaps. “I've got eyes!”

“Calm _down_ ,” Louis instructs him.

“I won't,” Zayn says. He sounds powerfully angry. “Tell me there isn't anything, right now.”

“I can't,” Louis says coolly, his own anger rising in him. ‘Can’t tell you that, man.”

Zayn makes a strange sound that's like a scoff being strangled in his throat.

Liam comes out of the shower with a towel around his waist. He sees Louis on his phone, and his eyebrows come together.

“Who is it?” he says.

“Is that Liam? Let me talk to him,” Zayn says, his voice terrifyingly calm.

“I shouldn't,” Louis says, staring at Liam, who looks more and more alarmed by the second.

“Hand him the phone, Louis.”

“Not unless he wants to talk to you,” Louis says.

“I don't care what he wants,” Zayn says. “Hand him the phone.”

Louis takes the phone from his ear and holds his hand over it. “It's Zayn,” he says. “He wants to talk to you.”

Liam closes his eyes, grief crashing over his face. “He knows,” he says.

“He suspects.”

“Why did you pick up my phone?” Liam moans, and runs his hands through his hair. “ _God_ , Louis!”

“He’d have known anyway,” Louis says, without any doubt in his mind.

Liam holds his hand out and takes the mobile very gingerly, like it’s burning him as he does.

“Zayn?” he says, his voice small and unsure, sounding seventeen again.

Louis finally allows himself to feel the guilt he's been holding at bay. He lies on his side in the nest of covers, aching on Liam’s behalf as he stands there, listening to Zayn, worrying at his lip with his teeth.

“I know,” Liam says. “I know, _I know._ Look --”

He sits down hard on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah. No, I admit it. Only a few days now. It just... happened.”

Liam falls silent.

“It wasn't like that,” he says. “Zayn, that isn't fair. He's not -- look, he doesn't _belong_ to you!”

Louis sits back up and moves away from Liam, pressing his sore back against the head of the bed and resting a hand where the baby is.

“I've hardly ever felt worse about anything in my life, I promise you!”

“Thanks,” Louis says drily. Liam wheels on him, looking upset, then without saying anything he gets up and goes into the toilet, shutting the door behind him.

Louis is left alone in the quiet.

“Hey,” he says aloud, sing-songy. “Your daddy’s made a mess of everything, yet again. You ought to get used to that.”

He thought she was asleep, but she moves under his hand, and he smiles.

“I hope to god you're not like me,” he mutters. “Don't take after me in personality and _him_ in looks. Please, I beg you, sweetheart. Take after Lottie or something. Take after my nan. My mum. Trisha. Anybody.”

It's a while before Liam comes out. The phone is hung up in his hand.

“Tell me we’ve reached some kind of resolution,” Louis says, with dread rising in his throat.

Liam drops onto the bed and comes toward Louis, resting his head in his lap. Louis strokes his hair.

“No,” Liam says, finally, sounding heartbroken. “He’s furious with me. Says he didn't think I was capable of this. Doesn't even want to speak with you.”

Louis’ heart clenches in devastation.

“This was bound to happen,” he says, resigned.

“We should never have had sex,” Liam says ruefully. “I should never have come to you drunk, after you'd seen Zayn for the first time since… I knew what I was doing.”

“We both did, dummy,” Louis says. “We wanted it to happen, that's why it happened.”

“I should have had some restraint,” Liam cries. “God!”

“Should _I_ have?” Louis says, cocking an eyebrow.

“It's different,” Liam says, sitting up. He looks wracked with guilt.

“Is it?”

“It's understandable for you to… you know... want someone close, right now,” Liam says, glancing away from him.

Louis rolls his eyes. “I'm not this brainless sack of hormones, you know. And you're not a stand-in for Zayn, or summat. Yeah, I really wanted to fuck, but I could still go out and fuck if I wanted to. Wouldn't let just anybody touch me like you touch me. Don't even let just anybody touch my stomach, you know that.”

Liam laughs and admits that he does. He was there when a fan had spotted them at a Duane Reade and approached in a brief moment that security’s backs were turned, her eyes glazed, her hand outstretched. Louis had grabbed her by the wrist so hard she gasped. When she came back to earth and apologized profusely, he bought her a coffee, posed for a selfie and sent her off while glaring daggers at her back.

Even Harry has been slapped down by getting too complacently handsy with him, like he's some pregnant old mum at a meet and greet. At the coffee bar in their rehearsal space the other day, Louis had commented “Ooh, active today, aren't we?” and Harry's hand had shot out like a heat-seeking missile, only for it to be reflexively pushed aside by Louis. Harry had looked at him, doe-eyed and crestfallen, and Louis had rolled his eyes and given him the go-ahead.

Liam is often reluctant to touch him there. He’s always reverent when he does, like Louis is the Virgin Mary, which is why he's essentially got a free pass for it. The previous night they had fallen asleep spooning, with Liam’s hands on his stomach. It was the most comfortable and safe he's felt with an alpha since Eleanor left him.

“It's hard,” Liam says. “Because it's like… it's us, you know? I already loved you, because… like. You're Louis, you know?”

Louis does know, and he nods. “It's the same for me.”

“I suppose I should have known earlier,” Liam muses. “I've always just been so eager to please you. You're just… I don't know.” 

“Don’t get soppy on me,” Louis says, grinning at him. Liam smiles, sheepish.

“I can't understand why Zayn can't make it work,” he says.

Louis puts a hand up. “First off, let's not. Secondly, I _can_ understand, and I've accepted it. Aside from that, I don't actually want to be with Zayn long-term.”

Liam gazes at him. “You don't. Even if you had the choice? Even if all your options were open?”

“Even then,” Louis says firmly.

“Wow,” Liam says, looking mildly stunned.

“See, there's that _my parents have been together forever_ nonsense raising its head,” Louis says. Liam looks affronted, but doesn't argue. “You've got an idealized view of the entire thing. I've been my mum’s right-hand man for forever, I've seen her have kids and try to make it worth with three men, now. It doesn't always stick, and you've got to know when to fold on certain blokes. I'm foldin’ on Zayn now, before we even try. I saw the writing on the wall, Payno.”

“Look, we shouldn't even be starting something if you're not… if you aren't sure of me yet,” Liam says, immediately.

Louis looks at him and a wide smile breaks over his face. Liam glows with fondness on seeing it.

“You? You're not _certain blokes,_ ” Louis says warmly. “This, I know for sure.”

Liam looks down, clearly pleased, but still nervy and preoccupied. “I just want what's best for you,” he murmurs.

Louis beckons him close again, and he wraps his arms around Louis, nuzzling his neck.

“I know,” Louis murmurs in his ear. “That's why I'm lettin’ you in.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Liam swears. “I never want to hurt you.”

“Even if we can't make it work,” Louis says, “will you be there for me and the baby, if I need you to be? As a friend, as a best mate?”

“Of course,” Liam says, sounding offended that he'd even ask. “Tommo, literally always.”

“Right, and that's all I need,” Louis says.

He draws back, and kisses Liam.

“Didn't I come in here so we could work on the album?” Louis says, laughing. “We _have_ got a meeting with Julian tomorrow...”

“You should have said _that_ to Zayn,” Liam points out.

“Well, listen, he asked me straight out if we were fuckin’,” Louis defends himself. “He's been suspicious for a while, lad. Even before nothin’ had happened, he sensed it.”

Liam gets his laptop out and settles next to Louis. He boots into Avid and pulls up their notes for Infinity.

“Let's work on this sad Zayn-ish one,” he suggests. “While we're good and narked at him.”

“Ooh, I love when you're petty with me,” Louis says with glee.

“This is terrible,” Liam mutters. “That baby is going to come out petty as can be.”

“Good! I wouldn't want an earnest baby,” Louis says. “I wouldn't know what the hell to talk to her about. I need a baby I can talk shit with.”

Liam reaches over and gently touches his stomach.

“I've wrecked your home,” he says to the baby, very seriously.

“Her home is Louis,” he corrects. “And Louis is fine, yeah?”

Liam smiles and returns to his keyboard. “Good.”


	10. Chapter 10

TORONTO, AUGUST 19

Zayn goes silent for a few days.

Louis doesn’t care, or so he pronounces to Liam. “I don’t give a fuck!” he exclaims in Baltimore, emphatically waving a piece of pizza around to emphasize this. Liam looks disbelieving, but knows well enough by now not to say anything.

Louis truly doesn’t know what Zayn will do. A year ago, he would have known. A year ago, Zayn would have pouted and bitched about this for a while, smoked loads of weed and gotten over it. Zayn, for whatever his faults may be, has never been easily wounded in matters of the heart.

Now he doesn’t know. Now it isn’t Zayn’s heart on the line, it’s his pride and his ego. Louis senses that he’s starting to realize how precarious his position in this baby’s life is. He’s sure Zayn doesn’t want to be a full-time dad, yet, but he’s also sure Zayn doesn’t want Louis filling that role while it sits vacant.

It’s difficult enough for them to talk to each other, as things are. Louis can’t imagine broaching the conversations they’d need to have to smooth this over, can’t imagine saying the things he needs to say without Zayn interrupting him, doubting him, throwing Liam in his face again and again.

“He’ll come over differently when the baby’s born,” Jay says one night on the phone, while he’s packing for their flight to Canada. “You both will, you’ll see. You’ll quit playing these games, you’ll realize you just want what’s best for her.”

“Dunno what games you think _I’m_ playing,” Louis grumbles.

“You’re playing with fire, here,” Jay tells him. “I love you, and I love Liam, but you’re playing with fire with this whole thing.”

“He’s good to me, mum,” Louis says hotly. “I’m totally worn out, I’m like, dragging myself through, and he’s picking up all my slack _and_ Zayn's --”

“Then leave the tour, love!”

“I can’t!” Louis exclaims. He’s folding clothes and he stops to sit, suddenly light-headed. “I’ve come this far! We’ve already cancelled five dates so far, just for me to get more rest, I can’t just drop out now!”

“Is this safe for the baby?”

“Oh, _mum._ ”

“I’m serious!”

“I’ve seen like three different doctors so far this month! They all say I’m healthy as a fuckin’ horse!”

“Don’t swear at me. Don’t yell at me, either.”

“Sorry,” Louis says, rubbing his temples.

“Louis, I know you love to work,” Jay says. “I know you _need_ to work. I’m just asking if you understand that this baby’s got to come before everything, now. Including that.”

“If a doctor tells me to go home, I’ll go home,” Louis says. “Straight away. Won’t even pack a bag. I’ll be in my room at your place by sundown. But until the day that happens, I’m stayin’ on. And Zayn can fuckin’ get over it.”

“Zayn?”

“Just, like, him wantin’ me to come back,” Louis says. “Be his housepet.”

Jay goes pointedly quiet for a moment. “ _Now_ I see why you’re so stubborn about coming back.”

“Oh, not at _all,_ mum _!”_

“What if Liam told you that you ought to leave the tour?” she rejoinders.

“He’d never say that to me,” Louis says. “He knows I’d laugh it off.”

“Right,” Jay says. “Listen, I’m not saying you have to put any stock into what Zayn says. But it might behoove you to hear from someone who’s also a strong personality, who you’re butting heads with. Who has a stock in what’s best for this baby.”

“So, not Liam?” Louis says. He can never get comfortable in a chair, these days, and so he gets up again and begins to pace the room.

“I believe Liam loves _you_ , and wants to be with _you_ , and is thinking about that first and foremost. He hasn’t had to confront the reality of the baby as strongly as you and Zayn have.”

“Huh,” Louis says, with plenty of hurt in his voice. “You’re saying Liam’s ignorin’ the fact that I’m pregnant because he wants to fuck me that badly? Cheers.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all, love. Listen. _Li-sten._ ”

“Zayn won’t even talk to me,” Louis mutters. “How’m I supposed to listen to him when he won’t even talk to me?”

“Fix it, Louis! Make it right. He isn’t a monster, that sweet boy we once knew is still in there somewhere. And it’s not just you and him on the line anymore.”

“Right,” Louis says, quietly. “Right.”

 

*

 

Louis is dead on his feet after their Columbus show and the ensuing long flight into Toronto. He’s been lying in bed for all of eight minutes (he does actually count every single one of these minutes) when he gets a phone call.

“Motherfuck,” he groans loudly in his empty room. “What motherfucker…”

It’s Simon Cowell. His heart starts slamming away in his chest like it’s trying to eject itself from its bearings. Simon doesn’t call him on his personal cell, not for anything that isn’t a dire emergency. Ninety-nine percent of Simon’s concerns go through the tour manager, especially now that they’ve been doing this for five years and have it down to a science.

“Congratulations, your baby daddy has officially spun entirely out of control,” Simon says, without a greeting.

“In what way?” Louis says, filling fast with dread. He pulls a pillow to him and sinks his fingers into it, hard.

“Well, it turns out that when he came to see you in Pittsburgh, he was spotted at a gas station near the airport,” Simon says, telling the story with a grating sarcastic enthusiasm that's painful to hear. “Now, this wouldn't be a problem, as it’s one uncorroborated report. No photos. But TMZ _loves_ this story, as you know, and they dug into that quite excitedly. So apparently, the last few days they've had reports of Zayn commenting to various industry insiders that the baby is his. Now yesterday, I found out from legal that we never got his final signature on paperwork that would keep him from blabbing paternity before the end of OTRA. So gag contracts we thought were binding, actually are not.”

“So,” Louis says, just wanting the dagger to fall already.

“Well,” Simon says. “First, some mid-level people have been fired. And the bigger one is, TMZ’s just called your reps. They got in touch with Zayn himself, and asked about the allegations, and true to himself he gave them a very, you know, verbose and eloquent answer, something like ‘Eh, yeah, ya caught me, I'm the dad’.”

“Christ,” Louis whispers, and flings the pillow across the room. “Fuck! Goddamnit! _Arsehole_!”

“Yes, well, we've all got one or two in our lives, haven't we?” Simon says. “Anyway, Sam is cancelling the Toronto date as we speak. TMZ has kindly agreed to hold the story for a few hours, so we can get our side out simultaneously. We need to get you in front of a sympathetic interviewer, ASAP, for a very cute little sit-down that paints you as the jilted young daddy who is sallying forth, heartbroken but brave, all for the sake of the fans. And somehow, while positing you and Zayn as excited future parents who just wants what's best for baby, we also need it to paint Zayn as the absolute anti-Christ and some sort of sex devil. Which should honestly be good publicity for that trashy album he's working on.”

“I have to be the pathetic one?” Louis demands. “I can't have any power here?”

“No, power is bad,” Simon says. “Power says, hey, demographic of females eleven to twenty-five, fucking without protection and out of wedlock is loads of fun! Even when you get pregnant and the daddy or mommy fucks off back to their sex den to play at being The Weeknd, while you stay wrecking yourself performing every night --”

“Thanks,” Louis snaps. “Cheers.”

“You get it, Louis,” Simon says tiredly. “You understand the optics here, and the narrative we need to sell.”

“You know, I've been fucking Liam recently,” Louis says, just to shut him up.

After that, Simon is actually quiet, for once.

“Fine,” he says coolly. “Burn this band to the ground. Go on. Do it single-handedly, if that's your dearest desire. Just get us that fifth album.”

“It's nearly done, and you know that,” Louis snaps. He takes the phone briefly from his ear and gives the finger to Simon’s contact photo.

“Excellent. So you've got a meeting with Sam and legal and everyone in thirty, might want to take a band meeting before that,” Simon says.

“I'll text them right now.”

They hang up and Louis clutches his phone with force bordering on violence, so he doesn't throw it. He doesn't have time to replace another phone, right now.

He gets up and texts the boys, steeling himself and wanting a cigarette very badly.

 

*

 

“What's wrong?” Harry says as he and Niall file into the conference room. Louis is sitting at the head of the table, guilty drumming a pen on the desk. Liam has to reach out and still his hand.

Harry pulls out a chair, giving Louis one of his confused and suspicious looks. “Louis,” he says. “Sam says Toronto’s cancelled? What's wrong?”

“I'm fine,” Louis says grimly. “Health-wise.”

“Well, good,” Niall says. He's got his glasses on and his chin on his hand, and he's peering at Louis in concern. “But, like, what's wrong?”

Louis swallows and looks at the table, gathering himself to respond. Harry looks to Liam expectantly.

Liam puts his hands up. “I only know the barest details, so Louis had better explain.”

Louis laces his fingers. “Ahh… So… TMZ spotted Zayn at a gas station back in Pittsburgh, when he flew out.”

“Oh,” Harry says quietly. He seems to know where this is going, and his expression shifts unpleasantly.

“They’ve been dogging him ever since, apparently,” Louis says. “About the baby. And yesterday, they got him on the phone and he admitted it’s his. They run with it tonight.”

There’s a collective groan of despair and anger.

Niall sighs and looks at his hands. “Why?” he asks, with a sharp look toward Louis.

Louis is surprised by this. “Why?”

“Why’d he screw us like this?” Niall says. “What’s he stand t’ gain from it? ‘S not like it's good publicity for him. You’re leavin’ somethin’ out, I can tell.”

Louis laces his fingers and rests his hands against his forehead.

Liam clears his throat. “Zayn, um, he found out that Louis and I have been involved for a few weeks now.”

This is clearly a bridge too far.

Harry, blazing-eyed, stands up and leaves the room, allowing the door to slam behind him. Acid rises in Louis’ throat.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Niall says, and gives a low whistle. “You’ve really stepped in it, you two.”

“It just happened,” Liam says softly.

“Nah,” Niall says. “Didn’t just _happen_. You’ve been sniffing around each other for a while now. Just thought, with all this goin’ on, you might hold off on it for a bit?”

“I should go talk to Harry,” Louis mumbles, getting up and then swaying dizzily when he does. Niall and Liam both look at him in concern.

“That’s normal,” he assures them.

“You sure?” Niall says.

“Yes!”

“He hasn’t been eatin’ enough,” Niall remarks to Liam. “You notice that?”

“Stop!” Louis admonishes them both. “Wait ‘til I’m gone to discuss me, at least!”

He leaves after Harry, figuring he’s gone to the coffee bar for a cuppa, or maybe some of the disgusting bullet coffee he leaves in the fridge everywhere they go.

Louis does find him there, stirring his tea with military precision. His back tenses up when he hears Louis in the doorway.

“I’m a stupid, careless fuckup,” Louis recites boredly, like it’s the Lord’s Prayer.

Harry heaves a gusty sigh. “It isn’t enough to keep fucking up and smooth it over by crying about it,” he mutters.

“Alright, nobody’s cryin’,” Louis says, putting his hands up.

He comes closer, sitting down on the couch behind Harry. Harry continues to stare at his tea.

“Can you look at me, at least?” Louis pleads.

“I don’t want to,” Harry mutters. “When I look at you, it wears me down, I feel sorry for you.”

Louis bristles. “I don’t need pity, Harold.”

“No, you need a wake-up call,” Harry says, rounding on him.

“What d’you call any of this?” Louis shouts.

“Apparently, not effective!” Harry yells back. “Apparently, not enough to get through to you!”

Louis struggles to take a deep breath without hormonally bursting into tears, an absolutely horrendous prospect right now. He thinks Harry would either continue glaring at him, which would be a nightmare, or reluctantly try and comfort him, which would be worse.

A few tears escape his eyes and run down his cheeks. Harry manfully pretends not to notice.

“You don’t know what this is like,” Louis mutters.

“Because I would never have put myself in this awful position.”

Louis stares at him. “Know why you’re angrier than Liam or Niall have been? Because this could have actually happened to you,” he spits. “And you don’t know how you’d react. You’re broody like me, you know that! Maybe you’d come over like me and want to keep it. And there would go all your solo plans, up in smoke. And I’m livin’ one of your biggest fears, aren’t I? Pregnant by Zayn, abandoned by him, no chance of bein’ together with him. I don’t get a clean break with him like you did!”

“You had a shot at a clean break,” Harry snaps. “You didn’t want that.”

“I wanted my _baby_!” Louis shouts, his voice rising up into a painful howl that strains his throat.

“You’re threatening any chance this band has of continuing on, Louis!” Harry says, clearly devastated by the very thought. “And now we’re every awful headline they ever wrote about us, even though we promised to avoid this exact thing --”

Louis leaps up off the couch, only to immediately fall backward again because of his tipped center of gravity and have to do it again, somewhat embarrassed. “ _You_ slept with Zayn first,” he rages. “ _You_ started this, ages ago. I was just trying to keep him in the band as long as I could.”

“In the worst way possible!” Harry shouts. His face is red and tears are in his eyes now as well. “If he was going to leave, if some part of you knew, you should have just let him go! _I_ did!”

“If you think it would ‘ave hurt _less_ for me to ‘ave aborted this baby an’ carried on, knowin’ it was Zayn’s…” Louis says, and leans hard on the counter, blinking black spots back from his vision.

Harry watches him in concern. “You alright?”

“Probably,” Louis mutters.

“Sit down, let me get you some water.”

Harry moves him to the couch and mothers him, fussing over him and making him drink an entire glass before he lets him talk again.

“I'm fine,” Louis says bitterly. He knows the truth of it, which is just that he's stretched thin, and exhausted, and hasn't been eating as much as he should be.

“Louis,” Harry says in a low, worried voice.

Louis turns to him, glaring with raw hurt and anger into those wide eyes of Harry’s. “D’you even care? Apparently if I had to be forced off the tour, that'd be best for everyone involved --”

Harry recoils as if slapped. “That's a shitty thing to say to me,” he says. “I don’t feel like that at all.”

“You've just stood here for five minutes railing on me that this baby is a mistake, that I've fucked everything up, that I've driven the band into ruin, so what's the truth, then, mate?”

Harry leans forward with his head in his hands. “I was out of line.”

“Oh, were you!”

Harry rubs his forehead. “I told you,” he says wearily. “I told you how hard this was going to be for me.”

“But Pez wasn't hard for you. All those girls over the years weren't hard for you --”

“Their engagement _was_ actually pretty hard for me,” Harry says icily.

Louis is surprised to hear this. “You joked about it loads,” he says. “I didn't know.”

“Yeah, sort of like how you and I joke about him having left?”

Louis looks down.

Harry swallows hard. “I don't mean to sound like I'm blaming you for me being hurt by Zayn.”

“And yet,” Louis says, gesturing at his middle.

“And yet,” Harry says.

“I don't think about it,” Louis admits. “You and him. I really, really don't. You're so closed off about it, and you and I hardly talk anymore, and I'm so wrapped up in my own bullshit --”

“I was hedging, earlier,” Harry says, his voice low and even slower than usual.

Louis waits patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

“I don’t feel sorry for you, when I look at you. It _hurts_ to look at you,” Harry says. “I don't want to be in your position, at all. It isn’t like that. But…”

He sits miserably back against the couch, squaring his shoulders and resolutely not looking at Louis.

“It's stupid, but it’s hard not to be jealous,” Harry finally says. “Not to feel like you'll always have him now, in some way. And I'll be entirely out of his life, and him out of mine. Except for jostling to knock each other out of the charts, when I put out solo work.”

Louis shakes his head. “Dumbarse,” he says, but without invective. “He's not even in my life right now. He's refusin’ to talk to me, but ‘e’s out there tryin’ to hurt me and make things harder for me, when I'm pregnant with his baby. There's nothin’ to be jealous of.”

“I'm sorry,” Harry says, morose. “It’s self-absorbed. And I did say it was stupid.”

“I understand,” Louis says, honestly. “But the fact is that he's gone, and we're here, and we've got to finish out the year.”

“And you think it's going to stick, this thing with Liam?” Harry says, eyeing him.

Louis shrugs. “Yeah? Even if not, it’d never be an awful bust-up like me and Zayn.”

Harry nods. “Liam is different,” he says.

“I just needed somebody,” Louis says, his voice strained. “To help me through this. You've got no idea how hard it's been.”

Harry looks at him with a tight jaw and red cheeks. “I do get it, Louis,” he says wearily. “I get why it happened. And he’s been pining after you for ages.”

“If you understand, then don't hurt me for it,” Louis says.

“I'll try,” Harry tells him, sounding serious.

 

*

 

“This is a huge blow to us, obviously,” Simon Jones says. “Or at least to our tactic of not addressing the pregnancy in hopes that it would curb it being dragged up repeatedly in the news cycle.”

“And it makes us look inept,” Sandy says. “We've fixed the problem, but it looks like our left hand doesn't know what our right is doing.”

Louis sits off to the side of the room as he's discussed, picking at a hole in the thigh of his skinnies and making it bigger. This meeting is smaller than the red-alert DEFCON 1 meeting that preluded his spot initially being blown, but there's the same mix of frantic despair and frustrated resignation in the air.

“And we really did not need the fans knowing it’s Zayn's,” someone mutters. “Not now.”

“You know, it _is_ going to come out half Middle Eastern,” Louis pipes up drily.

Everyone looks at him.

“I mean,” he continues, “that was always going to be the end result.”

Sandy lets out a little laugh that she covers with a _hmm_ noise.

“Least this way, they won’t feel duped,” Louis continues.

This is met with a surprising amount of general agreement, although the Modest and label people all just look annoyed he’s been allowed to speak for this long.

“The most important thing is getting on top of it,” Simon says. “So we’ve gotten you a sit-down with Cheryl Hickey for ET here. All of us here have got a team sitting down and putting together a questions list that will sort of lead a logical narrative and say what we want to say. You'll get coaching in about an hour and then we’ll do the whole deal, live at seven.”

Louis nods. He knows the drill.

“Can I go, then?”

 

*

 

Right after the meeting, so he doesn’t lose his nerve, Louis cloisters himself in his room and starts ringing Zayn.

It takes ten tries, but Zayn finally picks up. “What,” he says flatly.

“So are we even, now?” Louis demands.

“‘S not why I did it,” Zayn says, yawning.

“You won't be happy ‘til you've destroyed this band entirely, will you?”

“So I forced you to fuck Liam, like? Listen to yourself.”

Louis can't think straight; he's too heartbroken. “You've made my life so much harder,” he says, the sentence coming out flinty around the edges, but split wide open in the center by hurt and regret. “D’you know that?”

Zayn sighs. “I promise that wasn't my intention, alright? It's just, if you're datin’ around… I’d like people to know I'm the dad, you know?”

Louis is silent, staring at the cream and tan bedspread. He can understand where Zayn is coming from there, which he doesn't like.

“I knew it wasn't something you’d agree to,” Zayn says. “So I didn't ask. And look, they were about to twig, anyway. It was only a matter of time.”

“So you do want her,” Louis says. “You really want to be in her life.”

“Of course, the fuck are you _on_ about?”

“Just checking,” Louis says. He knows he shouldn't feel relief right now, with how Zayn’s been acting, but he can't help it.

“No, I said she was mine to fuckin’ TMZ ‘cos I want nothin’ to do with ‘er, obviously,” Zayn says with heavy sarcasm.

Louis feels a hot, bittersweet squeeze in his chest.

“She is yours, you know,” he says quietly. “No matter who I’m with. She's always ours, alright?”

“Remind Liam of that,” Zayn snaps.

“He doesn't want to steal your baby, for God’s sake.”

“Not too sure you're the best judge of that,” Zayn says. “No offense, but you're bound to be a bit moony from hormones right now.”

Louis can feel his good will toward Zayn steadily leaking out of him like air from a balloon. “Wow, who's the mouthy one?” he snaps. “I've got my head on properly straight, actually. And what I can see is that he's been a sight nicer than you lately.”

Zayn laughs with spite. “Since when do you need ‘em _nice_? Didn't think you were that picky.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Louis retorts, hot around the collar. He knows exactly what it means.

“You and I've always been alike with that,” Zayn says. “Nice don’t matter much.”

Louis gamely ignores the implication here. “Try and think of something that's changed with me since you've been gone,” he says nastily. “Somethin’ that would make me a bit pickier about partners? I'll wait while you figure it out.”

Zayn's quiet.

“What?” Louis says, to break the silence.

“Just thinkin’ we've got to be nicer to each other,” Zayn says. “This bickering, it's ridiculous.”

“If Liam sticks with me,” Louis snaps, “you'll just have to deal, mate.”

Zayn exhales through his nose and doesn’t respond to that.

“So, you'll need me to fly out soon and fully look the doting daddy, yeah?” he says, changing the subject.

“Few more times, if you can. The fact that you've been out once is good. I'll talk about it tonight on the air… any chance we can get you to go along with a lie about how many times you've been out?”

“How many,” Zayn says, sounding bored.

“Twice, instead of once.”

“Yeah, alright,” he agrees.

Louis has nothing left to tell him. He's about to say goodbye and hang up, but then he feels the compulsive need to dig his fingers a bit deeper into Zayn's Liam wound.

“You and Liam have always been tight,” he says. “Liam's the only one you even talked to after you left.”

“Harry hasn't contacted me,” Zayn corrects him. “At all.”

Louis hears a deep, powerful bitterness in his voice about this, and it makes an instinctual sort of jealousy rise up in him, much to his distaste.

“Right,” he says, for lack of anything else to say.

“Niall’s been silent as well.”

“Fine, you wouldn't talk to _me_ ,” Louis says, exasperated.

“And we talked about why, mate. I told you I couldn’t, it’d be too hard on me.”

“But Liam's special to you,” Louis says. “That's my point, like. He loves you, you love him. You've got a bond. I don't understand how this got so ugly.”

“Us bein’ tight is exactly why it’s this ugly,” Zayn says, in a restrained but unpleasant voice.

Louis lies back against the bed, consumed by guilt. His back is hurting him, and he shifts, wincing in discomfort and pain. “Look…”

“Louis,” Zayn says, very emphatically. “You don't get it. You can't.”

“Try me.”

“No. And stop pushing.”

Louis has nothing to say to that.

“Do you wish it was his?” Zayn asks, his voice different, smaller.

Louis’ throat gets dry and tight. “No,” he says.

“Really.”

“Sometimes I wish it was him that got me pregnant,” Louis admits. “Just cos’, like, reasons you can understand. But I already love her just as she is, and she's half yours.”

“Doesn't make much sense,” Zayn says, sounding bitter.

“I don't want someone else's baby,” Louis says firmly, one hand splayed over top of his abdomen, pressed to the round swell of their daughter. “I want the one I've got, the one we made.”

Zayn laughs in a soft and rueful way.

“And _you_ can't get _that_ ,” Louis tells him.

“S’pose I can't.”

 

*

 

Before he goes into the dreaded interview prep, Louis visits with Liam.

There's tension between them; Liam has no interest in acknowledging that Zayn released the information with at least one or two good intentions, alongside his petty spite. Louis is more broad-minded about the situation.

They start quarreling, and Louis fast puts a stop to it, not wanting to stress himself before the interview. They lie on the bed making out for a while instead. Liam is handsy and aggressive with him, which only frustrates Louis, because Liam is more and more reluctant to fuck him lately. He settles for an exchange of mediocre, rushed handjobs.

“You're so sexy,” Liam murmurs as he kisses up Louis’ neck and throat. “So sexy, love.”

“Then why won't you _fuck_ me,” Louis says back, throatily, rubbing up against him.

Liam presses a lingering kiss under his cheekbone. “You know why…”

“Liam…”

“You haven't got time for that anyway,” Liam says defensively, “you've only got twenty minutes…”

“I _know_ ,” Louis says, annoyed. “It's the principle --”

Liam snogs him more deeply, and Louis wraps his arms around him.

 

*

 

While he sits getting his hair done, Louis updates Oli, who he finally filled in about everything a few days ago.

 _u know wat this is like_ , Oli says. _on the walking dead_

 _how is it like that at all_ _lad_ , says Louis, squinting at his phone.

_u kno ricks in a coma and his birds with his best m8 and he comes out of the coma after the zombies and shes pregnant with one of their kids and shes like wit both of em_

_Im not with both of em_ , Louis immediately responds.

 _if youd watched the show ud agree m8_ , Oli says.

 _doesn't the wife die??_ , Louis responds.

_Hmmmmmm yea but there aint any zombies in toronto im guessin so u should be gud_

 

*

 

“So Louis,” Cheryl says, to start off the interview. “Tell me, how are you doing?”

He shrugs. “I'm alright,” he says with a smile.

“You're finishing up the new album? How’s that coming along?”

“Excellent,” he says, nodding. “Fantastic. We've got a lot of great material, lot of great people contributed, and we’re buzzin’ for the fans to hear it, so.”

“This must be a little odd for you,” she says, laughing. “Solo interview.”

“It's not something we do too often,” Louis agrees.

“Obviously we're here tonight to have a quick chat about the baby,” Cheryl says. “Just reassure fans that there's nothing to worry about.”

“I’d like them to know that,” Louis says, following the script he's on to the letter. “We all would, really. Our priority is the band, and making sure we give them the best performances and the best album we can before we take the break. We’re really properly thrilled about the good reaction that Drag Me Down got, we hope the rest of it goes over just as well.”

“Does the break have anything to do with the baby, or Zayn’s departure?” Cheryl says, transitioning into serious mode.

“No,” Louis says, shaking his head. “We knew before any of this that we needed a break.”

“So sort of tying in with that,” Cheryl says, and inclines her head to him slightly as if to say _get ready_. He steels himself. “TMZ just broke the news that it's Zayn who you're expecting with.”

“Yes,” he confirms, and tries his best to adopt a beatific, serene expression. “That's correct.”

“Are you two on good terms, even after the band split?”

“We are,” Louis lies. “We're not together, right now. But we're still friends, and we want what's best for the baby. So we're still a team, in that.”

He does something Sam suggested, which was to put his hand to his stomach and smile softly, emphasizing the mystical power of the baby and implying she can mend relationships that are in fact fractured beyond repair, and casting himself in a benevolent, earth mother light.  

“How do you think the fans will react?”

“The fans have been really supportive so far,” Louis says. “I've appreciated it loads. So I don't think it'll be an issue for them, or I hope it won't. They’re very dedicated, very loyal, so I trust them to understand, y’know, life is a bit tricky sometimes, no matter how famous you are.”

“You've cancelled your Toronto concert.”

“Yeah, we feel rotten about that. Since this dropped, I've got a lot of press to handle, and in general I've got to have more breaks than I would otherwise,” he says, and he feels his jaw starting to get tight from all of the bullshitting he's doing. He's never usually made to talk this long.

“So despite everything we've seen between you two, and heard since his split, Zayn is very much in your camp with this?”

“Yeah,” Louis assures. “It’s brought us closer again. He's been flyin’ out, comin’ to the doctor. He's been really involved.”

Cheryl smiles, and since the camera’s on him, gives him a quick wink and mouths _great job_. “Alright,” she says, “back to the album for a moment. Has the baby impacted your writing, in any way?”

“I feel loads more creative, lately,” Louis says with a smile, and he feels his spirit lightening as he steps away from discussing these awful, difficult things and moves toward honesty and his burgeoning love for the baby inside him. “I’ve been inspired by a bigger variety of artists, I feel closer to the music than ever. It's been an interesting time for me."

 

*

 

Perrie calls, after.

His heart lurches in his chest, and he doesn’t want to pick up. She’s known it’s Zayn’s for a while: he warned her, before the initial news even broke. Right after he told Zayn.

“People will do the math,” she said at the time, sounding sad.

“I don’t want to embarrass you any more than he already has,” he said. “I’m so sorry, love.”

“We weren’t really together anymore, Louis, it’s fine.”

“But they won’t know that.”

“I know,” she said mournfully. “I know.”

Zayn hadn’t officially broken off their engagement until he left the tour. Louis had rang him that day, wanting to discuss it, but Zayn still hadn’t been taking his calls. So he’d discussed it with Perrie instead. She'd been stoic about it, though he could hear in her voice that she’d been crying. 

Now she’s stoic yet again, expressing sympathy for Louis without railing away at Zayn. He’s grateful to have her as a friend, in this moment.

“Sorry I haven’t called,” he says, genuinely.

“Oh, love, we’re both busy. You’re… yeah. It’s fine, really.”

“Zayn’s a bit of a bastard, isn’t he?” Louis says ruefully, and laughs.

“Oh, yeah,” Perrie agrees. “Ohh, yeah.”

 

*

 

The internet goes apeshit, as expected.

Louis tries to pull himself away from social media. Zayn’s most rabid fans are incensed at him, for reasons ranging from garden-variety jealousy to a cockeyed but widespread belief that he’s trying to drag Zayn back to the band. His own fans give as good as they get, though.

 _@Louis_Tomlinson stays such an evil mastermind smh i love him. leave the band? Fine bitch ima just have ur baby then_ , someone tweeted. It has retweets in the thousands. Louis shows it to Liam, laughing.

Liam cracks a grin. “I can’t believe the shit you’ll laugh at, about yourself,” he says, shaking his head.

“Laughin’s better than the alternative,” Louis says, snuggling up in the crook of his arm.

 

*

 

“So... One Direction,” Harvey Levin says. The TMZ newsroom chuckles, and Louis turns the TV up.

“We don’t have to watch this,” Liam mutters.

“Payno, are you joking me? I’ve been waitin’ for this all day,” Louis says, shushing him.

“I’m just saying --”

“Louis Tomlinson says that he and Zayn are on good terms, which, ehh,” Harvey says. “That’s not likely, right?”

“Zayn did _not_ sound happy on the phone earlier,” Brian McDaniel says. “I’m just gonna throw that out there. He was like, ‘Oh, fuck. Ugggghhhh… yeah, I'm the dad. _Fuck_.’”

This is met with more laughter.

“I just don’t get anything about this situation,” Stacey says. “Like, you get somebody knocked up, and then you leave the band you’re both in?”

“He didn’t know when he left,” Harvey says. “Right, Brian?”

“Yeah, I asked,” Brian says. “We had a little follow-up interview while ET was airing this Tomlinson thing. He said he found out months later.”

Louis shifts on the bed, annoyed that Zayn’s still going off-script.

“So Tomlinson was just sitting on this?” Harvey says. Everyone mhms. “That’s amazing. And they announced this hiatus last month, right? My question is -- how awkward is this kid’s entire life going to be? Not only do the parents kind of publicly hate each other, this baby is like, the Yoko Ono of One Direction.”

“And the Larries!” Justin pipes up. “I’ve gotten like -- we’ve gotten so many tweets about that, that people think it’s really Harry Styles’s kid.”

“Haven’t we run a couple pieces that Harry’s --” Brian makes a hand gesture and a _huh-huh_ noise to indicate what means without saying omega.

Liam clucks his tongue. “Shit,” he mutters.

“Right,” Harvey says, laughing. “And we get C&Ds, every time, so --”

“I think Zayn’s definitely the dad, here,” Dax Holt says. “One of our reporters was the one who saw him outside Pittsburgh, and they said he looked, like, just totally fucking shell-shocked.”

“Well, imagine you're all of twenty-two, you just got away from this soul-sucking boy band life,” Harvey says, “and then, boom.”

“Boom!” Dax agrees. “I feel bad for Louis, though, seriously.”

“No, it fucking sucks,” Stacey agrees. “I wouldn’t -- that would suck. And he’s still touring. Has that ever been done before, someone pregnant on a world tour? They’re putting together an album, too?”

“Well, they keep cancelling dates here and there,” Dax says.

“So, pool on how long before he drops from exhaustion and they cancel the whole tour?” Harvey says, and is booed.

“That’s fucked up,” Dax says.

“This is TMZ,” Harvey reminds him. “So what are we thinking here -- one night stand, or actual relationship?”

“The animosity points to an actual relationship, right?” Brian says, and is met by laughter. 

Liam picks up the remote and shuts it off.

“Hey,” Louis protests.

Liam puts his hands up. “I can’t watch that shit anymore,” he says. “If you want, I can go back in my room.”

“No, it’s fine,” Louis mutters.

Liam pulls Louis into his arms and kisses him on the crown of his head, then strokes his hair. They lie there for a while in the quiet, listening to the Toronto street noise outside.

“Did you want to go out tonight?” Louis says, moving back so he can look at Liam. “Meet up with people?”

“You should get some sleep --”

“I didn’t mean me, I mean you. Like, without me.”

Liam looks at him, perplexed. “Oh,” he says. “D’you like… want me to fuck off, or --”

“Nooo,” Louis assures him. “I just don’t want you gettin’ sick of me, is all.”

“If it hasn’t happened yet, I don’t think it will,” Liam assures him.

“Yeah, we weren't sleeping together before, though,” Louis says. “You and I, we're both used to bein’ with people long distance. I don’t want to crowd you, physically.”

Liam considers this.

“I'll go down the hall and phone you,” he says, cheeky. “You can pretend I'm in England.”

“Cheers,” Louis says, laughing.


	11. Chapter 11

CHICAGO, AUGUST 23

Chicago is a straight-up mess.

At this point in the tour, they’re all wearied, Louis and Liam most of all. They've just wrapped filming on the Drag Me Down video and went without a break in between. Harry is still mardy with Louis, and Niall is burned out on playing peacekeeper, so as far as shows go it’s low on banter. There’s a general aura of reproach from the crowd that Louis feels is mostly directed toward him, post-Zayn bombshell.  

He knows, he knows, he understands they’re tired of random dates being cancelled, of having insane news dropped on them constantly, tired of how obvious it is that the boys are worn down and often just going through the motions. He wants to scream at them, _I’m tired too, you have no idea how fucking tired,_ but he smiles and he’s solid on the mic and he puts as much of his heart into it as he can.

Louis finds Harry and Niall backstage, after.

“Look,” he says, as he removes his in-ears. “That was shit, and it’s my fault.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, already looking uncomfortable with this topic of conversation.

“It was pretty bad,” Niall says, and starts laughing. He and Louis start fondly mocking each other’s lackluster performances while Harry stands there, smiling in a distant way.

Niall claps Louis on the back. “Can’t all be winners, yeah?”

“I just want to say sorry,” Louis says, and he looks at Harry. “For the tension. It’s my fault. The Liam thing -- it’s… I don’t want you to think I’ve gone crazy and I’m just doin’ whatever I please with no thought to you all, like.”

Harry shakes his head. “We don’t really think that,” he says, with an air of guilt to him.

“Just hard not to feel like this is a band of two pairs, now,” Niall says.

“Yeah,” Louis says with a sigh. “I know. But, y’know, it isn’t. We’ve got to keep that in mind, or we’re going to have more of these.”

“I didn’t think it was _that_ bad,” Harry says, looking back and forth between them.

“It was pretty shit, lad,” Niall says, laughing. “I was bad on guitar, even. Just a pisser all around.”

“We have to think about everything we’ve gone through,” Harry says, “and how we’re still doing the work of five with just four.”

Louis and Niall both nod.

“I think this break might be longer than we thought,” Harry says, with a significant look toward Louis.

Louis feels his heart catch with disappointment. A lump rises in his throat. “I think that’s fair to say.”

 

 *

 

LONDON, SEPTEMBER 13

Dr Joan has an actual office in London, Louis finds out, and as he’s on the plane to Heathrow he decides to make his 23-week checkup both a day of public penance for Zayn and a chance for his mum to see the baby. Jay excitedly agrees; Zayn does so with less enthusiasm.

“Any complaints?” Joan says, as she moves the sonogram wand across Louis’ belly.

“Gums have been bleeding,” Louis says distractedly, paying close attention to the movements on the screen.

“That's normal.”

“Really?” Zayn mumbles. He's sitting off to the side, slumped in a leather jacket, taking everything in with numb amazement. “Fuckin’ weird…”

From Louis’ side, Jay glares at him, but she's been doing that on and off for hours.

“Well, she looks fantastic,” Joan says. “You look peaky and pale, though. And I'd like to see you put on at least five more pounds in the next few weeks.”

Louis rubs his eyes. Jay sighs.

“I've _told_ him,” she says.

“Mum, I'm fine,” he says. “There are CEOs who work when they're pregnant.”

“CEOs don't perform onstage every other night,” Jay snaps.

“I agree with your mum,” Zayn says.

Louis grins, because now Jay’s between a rock and a hard place. Jay rolls her eyes so Zayn can't see, but out loud she says, “Well, there you go.”

“If the doctor says I'm fine…”

“Well, you're not in imminent danger,” Joan says. “You're just running yourself ragged, and you'll be running yourself ragged some more when she's a newborn.”

“I'll have help,” Louis assures her.

“You will have that,” Jay affirms.

“We’re about done then,” Joan says, peering over her specs as she pulls the wand away and shuts the machine off.

“I barely _perform_ anymore,” Louis mutters, pulling his baseball tee back down. “I like, sit, get up a bit, sing, sit somewhere else, have some banter, sit some more… and then it's been a few hours and we're done.”

Zayn catches Jay’s eye and shakes his head vehemently. Louis sighs.

“I _know_ these shows aren’t ever that easy!” she says to him.

“Well, bad job we’re four people doing the work of five,” he snaps.

There's an awkward double take as they both stop to wonder if he's really just said that. Zayn squints at him, wounded, mouth open a bit.

“Cranky,” Jay says in amazement.

“It's the truth,” Louis snaps.

“Doesn't mean you have to say it,” Zayn mutters, staring at his hands. Louis wonders if he's looking at his bus one tattoo.

Joan looks like she'd rather be anywhere else. “So, I'll be in touch about your next appointment,” she says, as she excuses herself from the room. “Have a nice day, everyone…”

“Let's go get lunch,” Jay says hurriedly.

 

*

 

“Bruv, your mum’s fuckin’ _livid_ with me,” Zayn says as they take their table out on the patio. Jay’s inside, ordering. Daniel stands a few feet away, pretending not to notice this entire debacle. “You didn't warn me.”

“How'd you expect her to feel about it?” Louis says coolly. “She's my mum, she's protective.”

“It isn't like you…” Zayn seems embarrassed and draws closer to him. “This isn't just _my_ fault --”

“Don't lean in like that, yeah?” Louis corrects him, tipping his head toward the parking lot. “Looks like we're plotting. Just talk to me normal.”

Zayn shakes his head. “This pap thing is fuckin’ ridiculous, and you know it.”

“It is what it is. ‘S your punishment for droppin’ that TMZ bomb on me,” Louis mutters, examining his menu for something to do even though he already gave Jay his order. “And you should have expected her to be stroppy. After everything this year? I mean, Christ.”

“I expected her to play nice, at least,” Zayn says, drumming his fingers on the table. “She used t’ love me…”

The baby kicks Louis hard, and he frowns in annoyance. “Stop,” he says out loud.

Zayn raises his eyebrows.

“Baby playin’ footie.”

“Can I feel?”

“Might look staged,” Louis says quietly.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “If I wanna feel me baby, I'm gonna feel me baby,” he says, and very casually reaches a hand over to lay it on Louis.

“She's stopped now, mate.”

Zayn removes his hand, annoyed. Louis catches Daniel’s eye and receives a knowing look from him.

Jay brings out their food and sits. “So, Zayn,” she says, “are you working on an album?”

He nods. “In the beginning stages. ‘S quite hard, getting a full one together.”

Anger flares in Louis, and his mouth is open before he can even think twice.

“Shit, I know,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know what would be harder? If you had like, loads of stuff written, an’ then you had to scrap it all for some reason, an’ write an entirely new one, and you were on a world tour, and like, pregnant?”

Jay and Zayn both look up at him like he's gone outside of his mind.

“Can we just have a nice lunch?” Jay says, staring him down. “Since it's being photographed?”

Louis takes a deep breath, and his anger starts to ebb. “Sorry,” he says to no one in particular.

“Jesus,” Zayn says. “I'll just not speak, then, if that's alright with everyone.”

“Cool,” Louis says.

Zayn immediately reneges by nastily remarking, “Least you had your _boyfriend_ helping you write it,” and punctuates this by stabbing his salad.

This lands with an awkward heaviness.

“A nice lunch,” Jay says, shaking her head. “That's all I wanted.”

“Sorry,” Zayn says, and it actually sounds like he means it.

Jay looks at him in a way that indicates she's warming back up to him a bit. “It's alright,” she says. “Tough situation. You don't see each other enough. Tensions stagnate.”

“My fault,” Louis says peevishly, picking at his sandwich. “I _could_ be in London, but I'm too much of a horrid little brat to come home.”

“No one even said that,” Zayn says, barely moving his lips and glancing at his phone. “Don't be a head case.”

“We just worry about you,” Jay says, giving Zayn a reproachful look. “And the baby.”

“Especially the baby,” Zayn mutters. “She can't choose to leave tour.”

“She's fine,” Louis snaps. “Kicks me eight hundred times a day.”

“She'd be more fine if you would eat that damn sandwich,” Jay says. “Also, you're cranky because your blood sugar’s low.”

“‘S like the commercials,” Zayn says. “Have a Snickers. ‘Cept, y’know, have a sandwich.”

Louis snorts and has a few bites of the sandwich, to satisfy them. He doesn't like to admit how hard it's been for him to eat, lately. He's been doing a fine job forcing himself to, but it's met every time by a miserable mix of queasiness, lack of appetite, and his continued disappointment in having to gain weight.

“I feel like I'm in a zoo,” Jay mutters. “I really do hate this. I just think it's nice for us to present a united front. You know?”

“My mum wants to get tea with you soon, and talk,” Zayn says to her.

Jay sighs. “Probably a good idea.”

 

*

 

Jay has a late meeting in London, so they drop her off in the city. Louis and Zayn have a tense, mostly silent ride back to Louis’.

Daniel rolls to a stop in his driveway and says, “Where am I taking you, Zayn?”

“You could just leave me here for a bit,” Zayn says.

Louis’ breath catches. “Not a good idea,” he says quickly.

“What’s up?”

Louis looks over at him. “Liam’s over,” he says.

As if this summoned him, Louis hears the front door slam shut and looks over to see Liam step out.

Zayn laughs bitterly. “Nice.”

“Mate, I didn’t think you’d come back with me,” Louis pleads with him. “He didn't know --”

“Nah, it’s good,” Zayn says, and he slides over and starts opening the door. Louis reaches over and grabs his wrist, hard, but Zayn shakes him off. “‘S good, we ought to catch up.”

Louis quickly tears out of the other side of the car, but he’s too late to catch up to Zayn, who’s red-faced and swaying on his feet from anger.

“Liam!” Zayn hollers, slamming the car door.

“Zayn, Zayn, stop it, _stop_ ,” Louis says, catching him by the jacket and jerking him back. Zayn is caught unawares by Louis’ strength and staggers hard, but he’s too angry to be kept back long, and Louis doesn’t want to overexert himself.

Liam stands on the porch, not making any moves to withdraw or disappear. He looks chagrined and sad.

“Mate,” he says, his voice sounding a little raw.

Zayn storms right up to Liam and shoves him with force. Liam's like an oak, and he doesn't fall backward but instead reacts quickly, grabbing Zayn around the waist and pinning his arms so he can’t use them. Zayn looks cowed, and flails in his grip.

“Fucker!” Zayn chokes out emotionally. “Fuckin’ bastard! Arsehole!”

“Zayn!” Louis screams at him. “Jesus Christ!”

“Hey!” Daniel shouts, and gets out of the car, coming toward them.

Liam lets go of Zayn, pushing him forward and away from himself. Zayn immediately spins around and comes back at him, and actually succeeds in punching him in the jaw.

“Christ, Zayn!” Liam cries, clutching at his face and shoving Zayn away with such force that he slams against the side of the house and doubles over in pain. “You know I won’t punch you back, man!”

“Fucker,” Zayn spits again.

Tears are streaming down Liam’s face; Louis can’t tell if it’s from physical pain, or grief. Instinctively, he goes to Liam, trying to soothe him and examine his face. Liam waves him away.

“Not right now,” he whispers. “Please, Tommo, don’t.”

Louis backs off. Zayn looks up at them, his face brick red, his dark eyes bright and shining.

“You can’t do this shit,” Louis lays into him, his voice high and tight with pain and anxiety. “You can’t fuckin’ come on my property and do this shit! Jesus Christ! How the _fuck_ am I supposed to let you around this baby?”

Zayn straightens up, though he’s clearly still hurting. “Any excuse to pull ‘at card,” he says, chilly, “any excuse to threaten me wiv ‘at --”

“Well, _fuck_ , Zayn! Fuck!”

Liam makes a soft noise. He’s really crying, now. “Zayn,” he says, pained.

“Don’t talk t’ me,” Zayn says, his voice raw. “Don’t. I can’t keep you off of him, fine, but don’t talk t’ me.”

Louis runs a shaking hand through his hair. His heart is pounding from adrenaline. “I need to lie down,” he says.

This seems to sober both of them, and Liam holds the door open for him as Zayn escorts him inside and fixes up the couch pillows so he can lie comfortably.

“Zayn,” he murmurs, once he’s sitting. “Why does this bother you this much?”

Zayn scoffs, his eyes shining. “You really can’t imagine that this’d hurt me?”

“ _This_ much?” Louis says very quietly, studying his face.

Zayn shakes his head. He leans forward, kisses Louis on the forehead and musses his hair.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” he says.

“Text me,” Louis tells him. Zayn nods and heads out, not even affording a glance to Liam as he crosses paths with him, despite the very hurt look Liam gives him.

Daniel comes in after he leaves. “Everything alright in here?” he says.

Louis and Liam both nod.

“You didn’t break it up,” Louis accuses.

Daniel laughs. “There wasn’t much to break up, kiddo, it was over too fast. Liam, get a steak or something on that jaw, alright?”

Liam nods and Daniel heads back out.

“Fuck, Liam, I’m so sorry,” Louis says, feeling tremendously lousy.

“Lie down,” Liam tells him, gently. “You feeling alright?”

“I’m not the one who got punched in the face, am I?”

Liam touches his jaw and winces. “He sort of just grazed me…”

“I heard a fist connect with bone, mate.”

Liam laughs. “I think his fist’s in worse shape than my jaw. I’ve got a big, hard head. Lie down?”

Louis obliges. “I’m fine,” he protests. “I just really, really want a fuckin’ cigarette.”

“Just lie back ‘til you calm down a bit. You’re very exercised.”

“ _I’m_ exercised? You just got in a fistfight with _Zayn_ on my porch!”

Liam goes quiet, and he looks quite blue. “I know.”

“Liam…”

Liam shakes his head, and his eyes tear up again. Louis sits up and leans into his space, stroking his thigh and then running a hand through his hair.

“We need to talk,” Liam says, looking at him, woebegone. “About how this is gonna work.”

Louis feels his adrenaline ebbing away and in its place, a tension headache developing. “I know,” he sighs.

“Of course Zayn's going to be in her life,” Liam says. “But how much? And what are you and me gonna do? I keep, like…”

He bites his lip.

“This may sound a little forward and sudden,” he says. “Tell me if it is. But I keep picturing us living together after tour. Just… you'll be pretty far along, you know? Someone ought to be there to take care of you. And then after, as well… you'll need help…”

“Honestly, I sort of pictured it the same way,” Louis admits, feeling great relief that Liam’s put words to this idea.

Liam smiles. “Good.”

“But it's so much to ask,” Louis says, pulling his and Liam's hands away from his face and letting them settle on his stomach. He runs his thumb over Liam’s knuckles. “I feel like, stupid even talking about it.”

“I did offer to _marry_ you, if you'll remember,” Liam points out.

Louis smiles, still looking at their intertwined fingers. “You did do that, lad.”

Liam lies down on his side and gingerly settles his head on Louis’ ever-shrinking lap. Louis strokes his hair.

“Zayn will hate it,” Liam murmurs.

“Let me worry about that.”

“Louis… it's between me and him.”

“No,” Louis says, finding himself strangely calm. “It's between _me_ an’ him, and no one else. I promise. He's not allowed to come in my home and hit you.”

“I've hurt him,” Liam says quietly. “I've betrayed him.”

“Doesn't matter. He can't do that. I'm gonna have to start setting some hard boundaries,” Louis says, his heart aching. “Remind him of the legal aspect. He isn't just entitled to her no matter what his behavior is. I've got a right to protect her.”

Liam doesn't say anything, for a while. Louis continues to run his fingers through his hair.

“That's intense,” Liam says.

Louis shrugs. “Just have to think about someone else now. I want what's best for her.”

“I think Zayn does, too...”

“For him she's just an idea, still,” Louis says firmly. “For me, she's real.”

Liam nods, his cheek rubbing against Louis’ thigh.

“He hurt and betrayed us first, y’know,” Louis says, and then he lets the topic drop. “Let's get some ice on that jaw of yours, yeah?”

 

*

 

Louis takes Liam upstairs, and it feels like a wind of change has passed over both of them. Liam no longer seems to be as afraid of fucking him; he kisses hungrily all over Louis and doesn't hesitate when Louis pushes him onto his back and straddles him. Liam's touch is strong and sure, and a little possessive. When Louis gets too tired of riding him and gets on his hands and knees, Liam only asks “Is it safe?” (Louis nods vigorously) before he slides back into Louis and pounds him doggy-style in the arse until Louis barely remembers what his own name is.

“Good job,” Louis mumbles exhaustedly after Liam has come inside of him and hungrily sucked his cock. Liam laughs and kisses Louis’ forehead with lips still wet from his come.

They lie, spent, in a sweaty pile, running their hands over each other and kissing. Liam’s hands eventually go tentatively to the round swell of Louis’ belly, and he encourages Liam by covering his hands with his own.

“Oh, I felt her,” Liam says softly. “That's so sick…”

“Innit?”

“She's a little person in there,” Liam says, smiling.

“Size of a large mango,” Louis says. “Not sure how big a large mango is. Christina bought me this like, pregnancy calendar, have I shown you it? It's supposed to say how big your baby is every week, but it keeps just comparin’ her to fruits.”

Liam adopts a funny Attenborough-type voice. “At twenty-three weeks, the baby is well on its way to completing its transition into a massive mango…”

Louis laughs hard.

“You know one thing I’m really on the fence about,” he says, and bites his lip.

Liam glances up at him and withdraws his hands. He settles next to Louis on the pillows, elbow down and hand holding up the side of his face that isn’t red and tender. “What’s that, Tommo?”

Louis plays with the fringe of the comforter. “This’ll sound mental…”

“Lay it on me.”

“Who I want in there when she’s born,” Louis says. “Or if I want anyone at all.”

Liam studies him with a neutral expression. After a bit of this, he nods.

“Knowing you, it makes sense,” he says.

“I should have _somebody_ there,” Louis says, which gets another nod from Liam but no look of dawning understanding. He then just barrels ahead with unvarnished honesty: “But the only person I can think of is you.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Liam says, his face falling, as if he’s just been stabbed in the heart. “Oh, Louis.”

“Sorry,” Louis mutters quickly, shaking his head and already regretting having said it. “Shouldn’t be making this whole thing harder on you.”

“I want to be that person for you so badly,” Liam says, his voice throaty and soft. “You have no idea how badly. But it’s so complicated.”

“It's a ways off,” Louis says. “No need to drag it all up now.”

“What if Zayn wants to be there?” Liam says, stroking Louis’ side. “What if he wants to hold your hand?”

“I don't know if I want him to see me like that,” Louis says, his throat tight. He swallows hard.

Liam doesn't say anything, then. He brushes his fingers over his injured jaw, and looks at Louis with sympathy in his eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

LONDON, SEPTEMBER 24

_With 4 months to go, dreamy crooner Louis Tomlinson looks radiant sporting a baby bump!_

 

_One-fourth of boyband One Direction and expectant daddy Louis Tomlinson, 24, was looking healthy and well-rested when he was spotted today meeting up with the rest of the band to finish out the last leg of their On The Road Again world tour._

 

_Tomlinson is six months pregnant, expecting a baby girl with his ex-bandmate Zayn Malik, 23. Tomlinson, Malik, and Tomlinson’s mother Jay Deakins were snapped last week enjoying lunch together outside Styx, a new London hotspot._

 

_Tomlinson and Malik are not together. Malik ended his engagement to Little Mix frontwoman Perrie Edwards in April, and has since been linked to model Gigi Hadid._

 

_Tomlinson has insisted that despite some initial clashes when Malik left the band, he and his baby daddy are on good terms, and it looks like that really is the case. Good for them!_

 

_This will be the first child for both of the young singers. A rep for the band confirmed to Hollywood Life that Tomlinson is due in January._

 

*

 

“Alright,” Liam says, “last round of shows in the O2 for a while, boys. Let’s make ‘em count.”

They’re huddled backstage, moments from going on. Louis can hear the roar of the crowd, which always gets him going, even when he’s utterly spent. But the break’s been good to him, and he’s gotten a second wind this past week. Right now, in this moment, he feels like he could take on the world.

Harry gives them all a smile and puts his hand in the middle. They each follow suit. Louis’ hand ends up on top.

“What’s pain?” Niall yells.

“French bread!” Louis shouts back, laughing.

*

 

Two girls in the fifth row hold up a sign that says _WHO NEEDS ZAYN WHEN WE HAVE ZOUIS BABY? I BELIEVE IN HER_

Louis smiles bittersweetly at that.

 

*

 

After the show, Harry has plans to meet up with Nick and a bunch of their Radio One friends.

“Want to come along?” he says when he stops by Louis’ room after the show. He fiddles with his watch instead of looking at Louis.

Louis is surprised. He and Harry have been getting on better lately, but they haven't hung out like this in ages. “Should we?” he says, obliquely referring to the ramped up Larry speculation recently.

Harry shrugs. “Up to you.”

“Aye, fuck it,” Louis says. “Let's do it.”

He throws on a denim button-down without doing it up, and accompanies Harry out to the car.

They don't talk much, but the silence is comfortable. They crack the occasional dry joke with each other.

“We did well, today,” Harry says, looking out the window as they bump along a cobbled street.

Louis laces his hands and rests them on his knee. He looks at Harry, whose long hair is falling in soft waves as he stares into the distance, eyebrows furrowed.

“You've been fantastic, you know,” Louis says. “Really. This whole tour, you've been somethin’ else. Another level. Without you givin’ as much as you have every night -- I don't know how it would have gone.”

Harry smiles a little and looks down at his lap, playing with his rings. “Thanks, but… You know, you don't give yourself enough credit,” he says. “You never do.”

Nick hasn't seen Louis in a good long time and hugs him for a while, then puts him at arm’s length and looks him up and own.

“Look at what that bastard’s done to you!” he yells above the din of the bar.

“You know, I did have a part in it,” Louis shouts back.

“I bet he shags quite well, Zayn,” Nick says. “Does he? I bet he shags like he walks. I'd let him bust one in me too, honestly.”

“Nice to see you, mate,” Louis says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, you too! Have a drink! Wait, you can't, shit. Harold!” he yells.

Harry is engrossed in conversation with Fifi and turns aggrievedly. “Whaaaaat,” he drawls.

“Tomlinson can't drink, so you've got to drink double since you brought him out,” Nick says.

“I'll get right on that,” Harry says with a laugh. Fiona rolls her eyes.

To Louis’ amusement, Nick gets quite drunk and starts hitting on him, hard. Harry seems disquieted by this and politely pretends it isn't happening.

“You're a minx, Tommo,” Nick says in his ear. It's clear he thinks he's whispering, but he isn't.

Being who he is, Louis can't help but enjoy the attention. “Is that so?” he says, grinning.

“Oh, yeah,” Nick says, slurring. He stumbles and bumps up against Louis a bit. Louis steadies him. “You've always been fit. Even with a sprog on the way, you've got it. How d’you do that?”

“Dunno,” Louis says, discreetly taking his drink away from him and sliding it to Harry down the bar. “You tell me, Grimshaw.”

“Ugh, such a _mouth_ , too,” Nick whines. “You used to be such a mean little bitch to me, made me want to fuck you like crazy. Oops... I'm saying too much...”

Louis looks into his drunk, unfocused eyes. He's horny from the attention, and from the way Nick keeps touching his hips and lower back, but he only wants Liam.

“Be right back,” he says, and goes into a quiet corner to ring him.

Liam takes a while to pick up. “Hey, sorry,” he says. “I’m playing FIFA with Niall, what's up? Want me to come and get you?”

“Yeah, do that,” Louis purrs.

Liam is quiet. Louis can hear him excuse himself to Niall and walk a bit, and then a door shutting.

“Hi,” Liam says, his voice different.

“Hi,” Louis says, smiling. “Want to fuck me in the backseat?”

Liam lets out a breath. “Ohhh, fuck. Don't get me hard already, Tommo. You're like twenty minutes away.”

“Don't get too hard without me,” Louis instructs him.

“I'll be there as soon as I can.”

 

*

 

When Liam arrives, Louis hops in the backseat the second the car is stopped. They start snogging immediately, Louis pushing Liam down onto his back on the seats and then leaning in, chasing his mouth.

Louis comes up for air for a moment. “Paddy, can you get the partition?” he says, breathing heavily.

“I'd like nothing more,” Paddy says, laughing and immediately hitting the button.

“How d’you want to do this?” Liam says as he tears his shirt off over his head.

“Ahh,” Louis says. “I do really want you to fuck me --”

“Stay on top, then,” Liam says with a grin. “I'll hold you steady.”

Louis obliges, and they take a bit of time to get their clothes off and situate. Liam is rock hard under Louis’ thigh, and Louis rolls his hips against him. Liam's eyes roll back and he sighs with satisfaction, gripping Louis’ arse.

Louis takes Liam into him easily and moans loudly as he does. Liam lets out a soft whine of his own and pulls on Louis’ thighs so he can get himself deeper in him. Louis grinds his hips down on Liam’s pelvis.

Louis wishes for just a moment that he wasn't pregnant, so Liam could roll him over and pound him thoroughly in missionary. The sex is excellent enough as it is; the shine and newness of it after years of on-and-off mutual longing still hasn't faded.

Liam comes in him and lets out a groaning sigh of satisfaction; Louis feels the muscles in him clenching around Liam's spent cock.

Without much conversation, they reposition themselves so Louis is lying underneath, and Liam leans over him, jerking him off with long, loving strokes and kissing him as he does. He comes all over Liam's hand and torso, and they use his denim shirt to wipe it up.

They're mostly composed by the time they get back to the hotel, though Liam’s henley is open by a few too many buttons and they're both disheveled of hair and red of cheek. They have that characteristic “just been fucked” glassiness in their eyes and swollen lips from making out.

Paddy opens the door and gives Louis a knowing look as he helps him down off the running board.

“Could have played that Beyoncé song for ya,” he says.

Louis laughs his arse off at this while Liam, mortified, protests “Stoooop!” from behind him.

 

*

 

That night they lie in bed, stroking each other's bodies like they're learning about each other by touch. Louis brushes his thumb over Liam's lips; Liam, watching him in curiosity with his bright dark eyes, moves Louis’ fringe from his forehead and strokes his collarbone and pecs.

They move closer and closer, wrapped around each other, entwined. Louis presses his lips to Liam's hairline and breathes in deeply, inhaling the smell of him, which he can't seem to get enough of. Liam seems more comfortable about the baby of late, and freely runs his fingers down Louis’ sides and over the curve of his belly.

“I think this is the longest you and me have gone without one of us talking, Payno,” Louis murmurs at one point. “Especially without _me_ talking.”

Liam chuckles, leaning into the crook of his shoulder. His laughter tickles. “I think you're right.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

BIRMINGHAM, OCTOBER 12

The baby spends a few weeks growing fast and furiously, in a serious blow to Louis’ vanity.

“You look fine,” Lou assures him, as Mary tries to figure out a way to dress him to his specifications (which essentially boil down to ‘ _somehow, through optical illusions and loads of black, make me look like I’m not pregnant_ ’).

“I do not,” Louis protests. “I look like I might take off into the air at any moment and sail away.”

Niall is the only other band member who came to get ready this early, and he snorts loudly at this. Louis glares at him, wild-eyed, and Niall shakes his head.

“Laughin’ cos of that image, lad, not cos I agree with you,” he says quickly.

“You had better be, Neil.”

Niall puts his hands up. “I swear.”

Louis looks at himself in the mirror. He turns briefly to the side, which turns out to be a dreadful idea, and he immediately faces front again.

“Just, does it have to be so obvious?” Louis mutters. “‘S’like, everyone knows what happened, y’know? So that’s bad enough, but lately it’s like this big sign hangin’ on me, like, ooh, look who Zayn nutted in!”

Niall chokes on some water. Lou shakes her head.

“You ought to count yourself lucky,” she says. “You’re still all dainty and slim nearly everywhere else. You haven’t gained any weight in your arms or anything. Some people get to looking like legs of ham. I see you and I just think, aww, sweet, he’s got a baby in.”

“So’m I just losin’ my mind, then?” Louis says, smoothing his hands over his belly to create a sharper line and see where the bump actually ends.

“You’re smaller than you think,” Mary tells him.

“She’s right. It’s just having your body change that fast, is all,” Lou says.

“I can’t even lift big weights anymore,” Louis bemoans. “I’m days off from ham arms. And the doctor told me I’ve got to quit running when I get closer.”

“Well, yes, unless you want to have her born on the treadmill,” Lou says.

“That’d be the worst,” Niall says. “Just like -- oops, where’d she go? Oh, straight across the room!”

He doubles over laughing while Lou and Louis both frown at him.

“I’m sorry,” Niall says, straightening up and grinning. “It’s hard to take this serious sometimes, y’know? It’s _Louis!_ Louis havin’ a _baby.”_

“I can have a baby!” Louis says indignantly. “I’m twenty-three years old! I'm great with babies, besides!”

“Noo, you are, lad,” Niall says, and comes up behind him, putting his hands on Louis’ hips and studying him in the full-length mirror. “Isn’t that. It’s just I’ve known you so long. And I see you nearly every day, y’know? So it’s a little less real to me that you’re even pregnant. Although you do look it quite hard now.”

“Thanks, Niall,” Louis says drily. “I hope they print that in the Mail with the next pap pics of me. ‘He was looking pregnant quite hard today.’”

“Ahh,” Niall says, and claps him on the back. “Look -- there’s loads of blokes and birds out there who’d still smash ya six ways to Sunday, so, don’t take it too bad.” He leans in close to whisper, “And you’ve _got_ a man, so…”

“I don’t think you’re helping,” Lou says to him.

“I’m not good at this,” Niall says with a shrug. “Not me strong suit.”

“That did help a bit, actually,” Louis admits. “So thanks.”

“Ayyy!” Niall says, and goes off with Lou to actually get his hair done.

Louis continues to stare at himself, to the point of no longer even seeing his reflection. He looks past himself, engrossed in his thoughts.

“Hey,” Mary says quietly. “Look, I’ve been dressing you a while, so I know you've got some insecurities. But there’s nothing to be insecure about, here. You’re making a whole person with your body. It’s cool, and it’s a hard thing to do, and it isn’t the time to be vain.”

“It’s sort of hard not to be,” Louis mutters.

“I know you have a lot of eyes on you nearly every day, and paps dogging your every move, and a lot of speculation about things you’ve got no control over and a lot of people saying things that aren’t nice or fair. But if you can keep your head high, you’ll be with your baby soon enough and none of it will matter.”

She studies Louis. He nods.

“I know,” he sighs. “Thank you, really. I mean it. I do know.”

 

*

 

“How are we tonight, Birmingham!” Harry yells into the mic. The crowd cheers at the top of their lungs.

Louis sits off to the side, sipping water. Niall comes over and strums guitar in his face, with a few pelvic thrusts for emphasis. Louis sprays water at him.

“Ahhh!” Niall exclaims, dancing away. “Fuckin’ electrocutin’ me all the time...”

Liam walks by, and Louis sprays water at him as well. Liam shakes water out of his eyes and, grinning, goes to fetch a water gun, which he unleashes on Louis without any remorse whatsoever.

“That isn't _fair_ ,” Louis yells, sopping wet. He pushes himself to his feet and tries to chase Liam down, but Liam dances away nimbly, and it's hard to see between the water and the bright lights. “I'm working at a serious disadvantage, Payno!”

“What?” Liam yells to him, then stops so Louis can catch up. Louis comes close, whispers, “I _said_ , I'm working at a disadvantage here,” then takes his water bottle and sprays the remaining water right in Liam's face.

Liam splutters helplessly, blinking, and then looks into Louis’ mischievously glittering eyes and starts laughing his arse off.

“Oh good, shenanigans,” Harry calls into the mic, from across the stage. The crowd laughs. “Good segue into our next bit here…”

The opening strains of Act My Age start playing. Louis gets a wild grin on his face, and Liam returns it.


	14. Chapter 14

DUBLIN, OCTOBER 19, 2015

“Alright, so which of these can you attend, then?” Harry says, sweeping his hair back from his face and squinting tiredly at the itinerary of pressers in front of him.

They’re sitting in a badly-lit conference room in their Dublin hotel. Above them, cheap fluorescent lights are buzzing. Louis is sitting in a very awkward way with one leg bent underneath him on his rolling chair and the other stretched out in front of him; it’s one of the few ways he can get comfortable, anymore.

“Honestly, lads?” he says. “Probably, like, none.”

“We can do these without him, Harry,” Liam assures him. Harry glances up. He’s all dark undereye circles and frowny mouth.

“Yeah, shouldn’t be too hard,” Niall says, shrugging. “People’ll understand. Maybe cancel that Mexico one entirely.”

The door creaks and they all turn. It opens a crack, and to everyone’s unpleasant surprise, Zayn pops his head in the door.

His face immediately drains of all color, and he flicks his eyes to Louis in a panic.

Liam is stone-faced, and Harry even moreso. Niall starts laughing out of anxiety. Louis gets up as swiftly as he can and heads for the door. He pushes Zayn out into the hall and follows him out. As he pulls the door shut behind him, he hears Niall muttering, “Jesus. I still can’t believe he punched you in the fuckin’ _face_ , Liam…”

Zayn looks chagrined and anxious but also defiantly angry, a combination that has never been very promising when it comes to his ensuing behavior. Louis tries to head him off at the pass by being nicey-nice and taking him by the arm, leading him down the hall to the elevator.

“Sam said you were in a meeting,” Zayn says bitterly. “‘E didn’t say a _band_ meeting, like.”

“I think he was fuckin’ with you, then,” Louis says. “And I guess with us, too, so... cheers.”

“What were you meeting about?” Zayn asks, as they step into the lift.

“Ah,” Louis says, cracking a few of his knuckles and looking very fixedly at the floor buttons.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Zayn says. “Doesn’t matter to me, anymore. Just makin’ conversation.”

“Just about press, that sort of thing,” Louis mutters. “I’ll be out of commission after tour, so…”

“More slack to pick up,” Zayn says.

Louis nods. “That, aye.”

The elevator stops and they get off.

Zayn surveys him. “You look good,” he says.

Louis feels an unpleasant mix of emotions. “No,” he says, laughing. “Zayn, you haven’t got to -- no.”

“I mean it,” Zayn snaps. “Can I say somethin’ nice to you? You do look good.”

Louis sighs. He pushes his hair from his forehead with one hand and digs his fingers into the sorest part of his aching lower back with the other. “Fine, alright. Thanks, mate.”

With his hands on his hips, Zayn looks down at his feet. He’s wearing as much leather as he ever did, these days, but he’s got scuffed trainers on, which warms Louis to him a bit.

“It’s hard for me,” Zayn mutters. “To see you like this, and not be with you, y’know?”

Louis does understand, in his own way, but he’s deeply frustrated that Zayn continually wants to voice something that should be set aside.

He feels displeasure and annoyance bubbling up in him, and his mouth opens before he can tell it not to.

“You keep bringin’ this up, but d’you really think that you’ve done anything to show me that making a go of it would be a good idea?” Louis demands. “Even over these past five years, I’ve seen you cheatin’, lyin’ --”

“An’ that was a certain situation --”

“You were _engaged_!”

“-- an’ by your standard, you’re a cheater too, Louis!” Zayn hollers.

“You’ve got your _model_ ,” Louis says, with bitter anger. “Your alpha _model_ \--”

“She’s just -- I’m _datin’_ her, Louis, she’s not carryin’ my _child_ , for God’s sake, mate --”

“Right, well, sorry that it ain’t serious, ‘cos I’ve actually got a good, serious thing going --”

Zayn rolls his eyes.

“-- and that’s another thing, if you can’t respect Liam and his place in my life, we’ll take this to court and I’m lettin’ a judge know you’re assaulting people on my property --”

“You wouldn’t,” Zayn says in horror. “Louis!”

“I can and I would!” Louis shouts in his face.

They stare at each other, flushed and breathing hard, both full to the brim with hurt and rage.

“You’re actually doin’ it,” Zayn says, his voice tight. “You’re pushin’ me out. I fuckin’ knew it. Me mum warned me --”

 _“Please_ ,” Louis begs, “please, do not be a drama queen about this --”

“How should I react, then?” Zayn demands.

Daniel steps out of the room that Dr Joan is in and gives them both a look of concern.

“Boys,” he says, “you are _screaming_ , right now. I understand you’ve got a lot of things to work out, but this is private business, and there are other people in this hotel, you know? Also, we’ve got a busy doctor here only ‘til half-five, and then Louis has got places to be. I’m sure you do as well, Zayn?”

“I cleared my schedule today,” Zayn snaps.

Daniel puts his hands up. “As long as nobody’s getting socked,” he mutters, heading back into the room.

Zayn's jaw is tight, and his handsome face is paler than usual. He wheels back around to face Louis.

“Is no one really angry with Liam, for what _he's_ done?” he demands.

“Liam’s well-liked around here,” Louis says shortly. “You, not so much.”

The baby has been kicking him for most of this conversation, and gets in a good hard one on his kidney. Louis gasps in surprise and discomfort.

“You alright?” Zayn says, worried.

Louis just snorts and brings Zayn’s hand to his belly, so he can feel for himself.

Zayn laughs. “That’s one fuckin’ foot she’s got.”

“She’s Jimmy Greaves in there, every day,” Louis says wearily. “An’ most nights, too.”

Zayn doesn’t move his hand. Louis can see real emotion on his face; real love and affection, like he gets around his sisters or his mum, or the sweetest, youngest fans they’ve met, or Lux. Louis’ throat catches.

“Look,” he says, tearing up.

“Are you cryin’?” Zayn murmurs, coming closer. “I didn’t mean to --”

Louis shakes his head vehemently. “It’s fine, it keeps happening, lately. I just wanted to say, like, obviously I want you in her life, a lot. I’m glad you want to be in it.”

“Then why are you pushin’ me away?” Zayn says.

“I’m not,” Louis protests. “I just don’t want to be trapped in a difficult relationship just ‘cos I got pregnant, and I don’t want to give up things that are important to me, like finishin’ out this tour, or Liam. It isn’t fair to ask me to. I’m not a fuckin’ -- what’s that thing they put birds in? You’d know the word.”

“Incubator?”

“Right, I’m not a fuckin’ incubator, Zayn.”

“You’re gonna let Liam be the dad, though,” Zayn says, and he flicks his eyes up to meet Louis’. He strokes his thumbs over Louis’ belly. “You’re gonna let him do what I ought to.”

Louis shakes his head vehemently. “No. No. She will always know exactly who her parents are, alright? An’ you will always have as much access to her as you prove you can ‘andle.”

“So I’ve got to prove myself, now?” Zayn demands. “I’ve got more experience with kids than Liam, y’know --”

Louis just scoffs, not wanting to delve into the ever-widening chasm of difference between Liam's ability to take responsibility, and Zayn’s. “You know what I mean, mate. You’re startin’ a whole new phase of your career. I’m windin’ down one. The things I’d like to do next, I can do from home, with a few meetings a week -- representing people? It’s so fuckin’ easy. I can have one hand rockin’ her crib and be on the phone with the other. You’ve got to make a record, and do promo…”

“What, so I’m the weekend dad?” Zayn says, with a glint in his hazel eyes.

Louis shrugs. “Weekends to start with? I dunno, mate. I’ve never had to negotiate this before. Look… come over as often as you like. I’ll send Liam out if you want to spend some time, just you me and her. Whenever you want, I promise.”

Zayn nods and worries at his bottom lip. “To _start_ with,” he repeats intently.

“Can we go see the doctor now?” Louis says. “I already know this baby’s as healthy as fuckin’, like, a gang of bears, but we did fly you an’ her all the way out here, so --”

“Lead the way,” Zayn tells him, gesturing.

Louis does, but stops in front of the room door and turns to him. “Remember something,” he says, buzzing with the importance of what he's about to say. “I'm not saying weekends for you ‘cos I want Liam to fill in your role, because here's the thing, Zayn, this isn't really between you and him. It's between you and me, alright? _I'll_ be there weekdays, doin’ most of the work. You get her alone on weekends, no one else there.”

Zayn nods. “Alright,” he says. “I get that.”

“I'm the chief person in her life,” Louis says intently. “Now and for a long time to come. You want her, you've got to play ball with me, mate.”

Zayn looks into his eyes, and Louis isn't holding his breath for it or anything, but he thinks he senses a bit of a shift in Zayn’s thinking.

Zayn holds his hand all through the doctor visit. It's the first time he's done that.

 

*

 

“I can't do the AMAs,” Louis murmurs miserably. “I don't think I can fly out.”

“You could,” Liam says. “If you really, really wanted to. It's safer on a private jet, I remember someone saying that.”

“I don't know if I want to, honestly,” Louis admits, sitting up on the bed. “I'm so tired.”

Liam is folding his laundry up and packing it. He's very careful and precise about it. Louis watches him with affection.

“You ought to just go let your mum take care of you,” he says, after a while. “And I'll be over as much as I can. And once Christmas hits, I've got to see my family for hols, and then I'm all yours. Sound good? FIFA, jam sessions and talking shit ‘til the baby comes.”

“Sounds perfect, lad. You want a drawer?” Louis says. “And a key?”

Liam smiles. “I'd love a drawer and a key, Tommo,” he says in that self-effacing way of his.

“You're cute,” Louis tells him.

Liam’s smile grows, and remains large until Louis picks one of his folded socks up, hits him square in the face with it, and laughs his head off at Liam's affronted face.

“Cheeky!” Liam exclaims, and gently tackles Louis backward onto the bed, tickling him. Louis laughs hysterically, half-heartedly pushing Liam away.

“Stop, stop, I'll piss,” Louis wheezes.

Liam stills his hands and kisses him instead, running his fingers through his hair and trailing them over his jaw. Louis grips his bicep hard, gazing at him.

“Don't piss,” Liam instructs, and kisses Louis on the nose. They nuzzle and snog for a few minutes.

“I need you not to hate Zayn,” Louis murmurs.

Liam freezes. After a moment, he sighs.

“I could never, ever hate Zayn,” he says softly. “I promise.”

“You sure? ‘Cos he's a different person, now,” Louis says. He feels another wave of too-familiar grief break over him.

“He's been a different person for a while,” Liam says. “Before he even left, you know? You saw it, or you wouldn't’ve…”

He lets that sentence lie half-spoken.

Louis strokes Liam’s cheek, the side of his face and down his neck. “Is it mental of me to think I can do this?”

Liam settles next to him on the bed, hands clasped, looking at him with his eyebrows raised. “Not at all, Tommo,” he says. “You’re the most determined person I know.”

“You know, I'd be a bit lost without you, though,” Louis says. “I really would.”

Liam snorts softly and glances down. “That's hard to believe,” he says.

“It's true,” Louis insists.

Liam's quiet. “I don't even know how to change a diaper,” he finally says.

Louis laughs. “That skill can actually be taught, lad.”

“Oh, brilliant,” Liam says, leaning in and kissing up his neck. “I thought I was fucked.”


	15. Chapter 15

BELFAST, OCTOBER 20, 2015

Liam's been doing a bang-up job of hiding just how exhausted he is, but reality is coming home to roost.

He feels terrible, and like he's got no right to it; after all, Louis is doing the same amount of work in the condition he's in. But that reality does nothing to set off the bone-deep weariness in him.

The biggest problem is that he hasn't been sleeping right for a while. It began when he and Louis got together, and he began to be tormented by dreams that had him reliving the day Zayn left or facing down absurd scenarios in which Zayn, for instance, reads off his list of crimes in a gladiator coliseum and is met with great cheers as lions rush in to devour Liam. After Zayn clocked him, he started reliving _that_ in his nightmares.

Liam also stays up worrying about Louis, even when Louis is sleeping peacefully next to him like he does most nights now. He's terrified that Louis is working too hard, but he's even more terrified that he's subtly pushed Louis into making the wrong choice. For months, Liam has lived in dread of a moment far down the line, when Louis has a daughter five or six years old and realizes that he should have been with Zayn the whole time, and would have been if it weren't for Liam.

Getting punched in the face did nothing to resolve Liam's guilt over what he's done, but it went a great deal toward helping him accept that there is no one right choice for Louis, that what should be the most straightforward path ahead -- being together with the father of his baby -- is in fact littered with pits and brambles. He's finally really seen the instability in Zayn that Louis has been obliquely referring to for months.

Liam’s still fearful, anyway. He knows that the longer he and Louis are together, the more the shine will come off of him. He's too reliable, too steady, not exciting. Zayn's negative points will fade in the annals of time, and one day Louis might wake up and look over at Liam and wonder why he made the choice he made.

It doesn't help to have Louis say that Zayn was never an option. He knows it isn't really true, and he's drowning in a sea of insecurity besides.

He tries not to think long-term, he tries to slow himself down, but the fact is that Liam is a long-term kind of guy, and there's something about your boyfriend being nearly seven months along that makes the future an omnipresent third party to all of your interactions. He feels it bearing down on his chest as he moves in Louis, the looming long days and short years. He hears it in Louis’ soft sweet moans, in the private little laughs he lets out in Liam's ear. He looks over at Louis in the dark, his eyelashes fanned over his cheeks in sleep and the curve of his belly obvious even in the low light, and Liam knows he wants a future with Louis very firmly in it.

It's the future that's already blooming inside Louis that scares Liam most of all. He doesn't know how to be a dad, especially to another man’s child. He doesn't know how he can help Louis through this when he can barely get his own head around the idea, some days.

He knows that he adores Louis so much that he aches with the weight and power of it. He prays that's all that matters in the end.

 

*

 

Some of his concerns finally come out on their first night in Belfast.

Louis has been on the phone with lawyers on and off all day, finally putting his long-brewing ideas about custody into legalese after his run-in with Zayn. Liam tiptoes around him throughout this, heart in his throat, tuning him out politely. He hangs out with Niall, and finds his heart isn't in it -- despite the anxiety it causes him to listen in, all he wants is to hear whatever Louis is saying. He returns to their room, and tries to spend time updating Twitter, but can't concentrate for trying to puzzle out what legal is telling Louis based on his responses to them.

At one point, Louis puts a hand over the receiver and says, “I don't mind if you want to hear, Payno, this concerns you too,” which in Liam's current state of mind is the verbal equivalent of grabbing his balls and twisting them like taffy.

Liam keeps nervously fixing his watch and smoothing his hair back. He observes Louis to soothe himself. Liam does love just sitting and watching him, especially when he's frustratedly talking on the phone and therefore at his most expressive.

Liam loves how Louis looks lately. The glow is real, although Louis mentioned last week it's probably just that his base temperature is a few degrees higher. His hair is longish now, and very thick and glossy. His beard is growing in fuller. His thighs and arse have filled back out again, and then some. Even him being round with baby is itself sexy, though Liam wonders if this is just because it supplies his alpha hindbrain with a constant reminder that Louis is fertile.

Louis notices Liam watching him and gives him a conspiratorial little smile. Liam smiles back.

Louis’ hand settles at the top of the swell of his stomach, where it often is these days. “You're saying it's like… my house, my rules, then,” he says into the phone.

Liam tries not to allow himself to worry about what this means. He lies back on the bed and hums a few bars from History. Louis, probably without even realizing, absentmindedly hums the chorus back at him.

Louis gets off the phone after about ten minutes more of him pacing and asking questions. “So... regardless of if or when we ever get married, you can have rights,” he says to Liam, totally unprompted.

Liam sits up. “C’mere,” he says, gesturing. “What's this, now?”

Louis sits next to him. “There's this thing called a Parental Responsibility Agreement,” he says. “We've got to petition the courts for it.”

Liam feels distinctly overwhelmed. “And then what?”

“An’ then, if they grant it, you've got rights.”

“Should I _have_ legal rights?” Liam says, studying him. “To a baby? _Your_ baby? I'm just now twenty-two!”

“Liam,” Louis says, like he's explaining maths to a child. “Are we livin’ together after the baby, or what?”

“Of course,” Liam says, immediately. He's never considered differently.

“Then you need to have rights, alright?”

“Like for what,” Liam says, confused.

“Christ, ‘e's gone dense on me,” Louis says wearily, standing with some difficulty and beginning to pace again. “So, alright. Let's say you come home from the shops and you find me unconscious because I've hit my head off the side of the tub, and baby's half-drowned in the bath while I was knocked out. You rush us both to the hospital, and you've got to make medical decisions for me _and_ for baby while I'm gorked. If you haven't the right to do that, the hospital will just do whatever the hell they like and ignore you. Of course, Zayn could make decisions for baby, but let's say Zayn is in the states at the Grammys and you can't even get him on the phone.”

Liam stares at him, feeling nauseous with horror at even imagining this situation. “That's _awful,_ Louis!”

“Or let's say I'm wicked postpartum,” Louis barrels ahead, not even looking at him, clearly on another level like he gets sometimes when he's got a bee in his bonnet. “Like, out of my mind entirely, and you've got to take care of her while I recover. But if you've got no rights, then it's just the Zayn show every day of the week, and he, I dunno, leaves her to toddle off a balcony while he's fuckin’ that Hadid sister on top a pile of coke!”

He gestures expansively.

“Is your mind really this dark?” Liam says, and he can feel his face betraying how upset he is. “D’you actually think this way?”

Louis glances at him. “I want to protect my daughter,” he says. “I trust you do, too, so I'm givin’ you rights to do it with.”

Liam doesn't know what to say. “This is a lot,” he says. He feels his palms getting slick with sweat, and anxiety restricting his breathing.

Louis stops and looks at him. “Liam?” he says. He sounds far away.

Liam tries to breathe, but then he thinks he's breathing too much or too fast, and he tries to stop, but his chest begins to constrict.

Louis comes back, sits and pulls him down, down, and then his head is on Louis’ lap and Louis is stroking his hair and murmuring sweet nothings to him.

“You have only ever got to help as much as you reasonably can or would like to, Payno,” Louis murmurs to him. “I'm not draftin’ you to be a full-time daddy as a twenty-two year old with a lot of career potential. After, y’know, two months of dating.” He laughs. “I mean, I don't even plan on being a daddy _all_ the time… that's why nannies exist, yeah? And I've got a lot of family, and so does Zayn, and Zayn wants her on most weekends…”

As Louis talks, Liam feels his panic ebb. “Sorry,” he says, as soon as he's come back to earth. “God, sorry, Louis. I don't want you to think -- I mean, this is scarier for you than me --”

Louis shakes his head. “I've had to get pretty used to the idea,” he says. “Sensin’ it's just sinkin’ in for you, now.”

“It'll cause more problems between me and Zayn,” Liam says, sitting up and looking at him. “Me having legal rights.”

Patiently, Louis says, “I'll explain it to him, lad.”

Liam shakes his head in conviction. “He won't listen.”

“He will if he wants to see his daughter.”

Liam is frightened and upset, and without thinking, he blurts out, “You'll resent me.”

Louis’ brows knit. He looks at Liam with a displeasedly baffled expression. “What?”

“You’ll -- if you use her to drive a wedge between you and him, and it’s because of me, someday -- I dunno, Louis!” Liam cries. “You’ve never thought about this? You’ve never thought that one day, you might regret picking the safe option?”

Louis shoves himself off the bed. His face is red with anger, and tears are welling in his eyes. His hands go to his belly protectively. Liam feels like a monster upon seeing this.

“Do you think that of me?” Louis demands, his voice high and raw. “D’you really think I’m that flighty, that fuckin’ whimsical and pathetic and disloyal?”

“No, no,” Liam exclaims, shaking his head, “Louis, you’re the most loyal person I know, Jesus Christ --”

“Then why would you _ever_ say that to me?”

Guilt pierces Liam’s heart, and bile rises in his throat.

“I don’t want you to be miserable because of me,” he yells, “I don’t want to -- I don’t want to be that _thing_ that stops you --”

“ _What_ thing? Stops me from _what?_ ”

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Liam leans forward, his head in his hands. “I don’t know,” he moans.

“Liam,” Louis says, coming to him and grabbing his wrists, tipping his chin up and making Liam look in his eyes. “You are the only person, mate, the only one who’s been with me for this whole thing and been nothing but kind and supportive and told me I ought to do what I feel is best, and defended me and worried about me --”

“That’s who I am,” Liam chokes, “I couldn’t _not_ do those things --”

“But no one else _would_ , Liam! No one else would!”

“I’m the one who’s _here_ ,” Liam says emphatically. “If Zayn was here --”

Louis, his hands still wrapped around Liam’s wrists, stares at Liam like he aims to burn a hole in him. “Zayn wouldn’t do these things,” he says emphatically. “Zayn made his choice not to be here. And if I ever think to myself someday, I should have been with him, I’ll kick my own arse up and down the street for thinking summat so powerfully stupid.”

Liam breathes in shakily. “I need, um, air,” he says. “I need to go think.”

Louis withdraws his grip and shrugs, his blue eyes suddenly chilly.

“Then go think.”

 

*

 

Liam doesn’t go very far. He sits on a bench not too far from the hotel, Paddy trailing him by a few hundred feet. He pulls a beanie down over his hair and forehead and keeps his head ducked as he chainsmokes. No one recognizes him.

Liam isn’t a big smoker, but Louis having quit has cut into his habit massively, as he used to only really smoke when they would have one together -- huddled under awnings between recording sessions, or backstage after a show, or out at a bar together. He justifies the five cigarettes he smokes in succession as being ones he would have smoked anyway, if the circumstances were different. He sits watching the Belfast traffic go by in circles on the roundabout in front of him, thinking hard.

After a bit of this, he pulls out his mobile. He thinks of ringing his mum, or one of his friends who isn't in the industry, or one of his friends who is. He wonders if it would be weird to ring Wiz, who he doesn't know that well yet, but who seems to really like Liam and is certainly better-versed in baby daddy drama than most everyone else he knows. He even thinks about calling Sophia, who was the first to figure out his secret and has surely drawn her own conclusions since then from following the tabloids. Then he imagines her pitying him for being in this situation, and he can’t stand the thought.

For just one desperate moment, he thinks about ringing Zayn, apologizing to him, begging him to let the three of them be a team on this.

Sitting there, Liam is struck by inspiration.

The phone rings for ages, and he’s afraid she won’t pick up, but then there she is.

“Ruth?” he says, and his breath catches in his throat. “Um, I’ve sort of gotten myself in a messy situation.”

His sister laughs. “Well, it happens. What’s up?”

 

*

 

Liam knocks on Louis door. Louis doesn’t answer at first, and he starts to panic and pounds on it harder.

Louis finally answers it with a cranky scowl on his face. Liam sags with relief.

“Everythin’ alright, constable?” Louis sasses him.

“We need to talk,” Liam says. “But first…”

He wraps his arms around Louis and squeezes him, hard, pressing his lips to the crown of Louis’ head and kissing him emphatically. Louis softens in his arms.

“Best mates first,” Liam murmurs. “Before anything. And always. Alright?”

“‘Course,” Louis says, looking up into his eyes. Liam feels a powerful swell of love for him. He gets a sensation like he’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, and after a moment of hesitation, he decides to just go with the wind and let himself fall.

“I’m in love with you,” Liam admits, feeling shaky and light in his shoes. “Maybe it’s too early to say that, or feel that, but like -- I’ve _been_ in love with you, so --”

A weight lifts off of his chest as he says this aloud, and he clutches Louis tighter.

“I know, Payno,” Louis murmurs. “I know.”

Liam starts to rub Louis’ back, and Louis sighs with pleasure and leans into him.

“I maybe shouldn’t have walked out,” Liam says, at the same time Louis says, “I think I’ve been falling in love with you, too.”

Liam freezes, hardly believing his good luck. “Run that one past me again?” he says, his voice low.

Louis laughs. “Please, you heard me...”

His heart pounding, Liam leans down to snog him hard, but tenderly. Louis reaches his hands up around Liam’s neck and pulls him close to him, stroking his hair.

“Hey, don’t you fuckin’ dare stop rubbing my back,” Louis whispers.

Liam laughs with joy and starts again.

“You’re allowed to need space sometimes, by the way,” Louis adds. “God knows we spend enough time together.”

Liam’s quiet for a moment, just digging his fingers into the tight muscles of Louis’ back and nuzzling his jaw. “I talked to Ruth,” he says. “She said… Um, shit. Let me try and remember all the stuff she said. She was like, there’s obviously a lot going on here… from you being panicked about needing somebody to help you through this, but not wanting to admit that you’re vulnerable right now, and how you’re not good at being alone --”

“Oh, cheers, Ruth!”

“-- and how I’ve got this crazy soppy romantic view of the world and I’m young and dumb and naive, and I’ve a hard-on for the idea of doing the right thing, she didn't use those words exactly. But she said but it’s only just occurring to me how big a deal it is for me to be in love with someone who's got a baby on the way --”

“Right, yeah.”

“But in the end,” Liam says, “we both agreed that, like, as hard as this will be for both of us, neither of us would be happy apart from each other --”

“I’m glad you and your sister decided all this without my input,” Louis says drily.

“You know what I mean, lad.”

“I agree,” Louis says, gazing at him intently. “I wouldn’t be happy without you at my side.”

“And I wouldn’t be happy away from it,” Liam says, his heart squeezing pleasantly in his chest.

“We can still have _fun_ , y’know,” Louis murmurs. “I don't plan to let my life come crashin’ to a stop at twenty-three. Once things are settled down, I want to go on some actual dates with you, and go out hell raising sometimes, and do the shit we used to. And just come back to the baby at the end of the night.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Liam says.

“Oh, no,” Louis says, his light eyes flashing in amusement. “I know you, my boy. You'll turn into a homebody straightaway if I let you. No, my mum can take the baby some nights. In fact, I think she'll insist.”

“Well, if Jay insists,” Liam says playfully. “I've got no idea how we’d stop her.”


	16. Chapter 16

SHEFFIELD, OCTOBER 31, 2015

The last date is everything Louis expected it would be; like every other date, but with a joyous finality to it. It reminds him of Guy Fawkes nights when he was a kid, watching all of the chaos in happy awe. The energy of the crowd is like he's never felt it before. It's a massive catharsis for everyone.

He's been quite tearful lately from his hormones, and on this night it's worse than usual. He gets misty when they do the breakdown from Act My Age five times, and Niall catches his eye and gets a little teary too.

Louis nearly starts sobbing when he hugs Liam, but at the tail end of the hug -- when they're really starting to hang on each other desperately, like they're that elderly couple waiting to die on the fucking Titanic -- Liam whispers a dirty joke in his ear, and then he's laughing too hard to do anything else.

He cries on Niall when they embrace, and Niall cries a bit too.

“When you've had some time at home with that baby, you had better fuckin’ ring me,” Niall says hoarsely in his ear. “We’ve got to go scout some talent, play some footie...”

“Right, lad,” Louis chokes out. “I will, I will.”

He and Harry hug more briefly than anyone else, but at the end of it Harry murmurs in a rough, weepy voice, “I'm sorry, Louis... I'm sorry,” and it's almost too much for Louis to bear. He claps him on the back, hard.

“Don’t be sorry,” Louis whispers, holding back his emotions. “Just… don't be a stranger, yeah?”

Harry looks at him, his jaw tight, green eyes bright with tears.

“Okay,” he says, nodding. “Alright.”

 

*

 

“I'm so proud of you boys, oh my goodness,” Karen says, as she pulls Louis into a hug backstage.

“Cheers,” Louis says. He's still soaked with sweat and dead on his feet from the show. “It's fantastic you all could be here --”

“Wouldn't miss it!” Bobby yells from across the room, where he's trying to play Niall’s guitar despite it still being strapped across Niall.

Harry laughs at this, and with an arm slung around Anne and another around Gemma, he goes to converse with the Irish of their company.

Karen continues squeezing Louis. Liam hovers nearby as he tells Geoff about their plans for the next few weeks.

“I hope Louis’ plans are bed rest,” Karen says, coming over all stern and motherly.

“Those are my plans, actually,” Louis says, laughing.

“Oi, where's my baby!” he hears Jay yell.

“Over here, mum!”

Jay and Lottie barrel over and wrap him and Karen into a group hug. There's scattered appreciative laughter.

“My darling,” Jay murmurs to him. “He's done, he's finally finished.”

“I did it,” he whispers to her, and she shakes with a few sobs, gripping the back of his head and kissing him on the cheek.

When she pulls back from him, her cheeks are streaked with mascara. Her hands go almost immediately to his stomach. Lottie follows suit. The baby's been quite active tonight, and it isn't long before they feel her.

“Fuck, I'm so excited,” Lottie says, beaming. “You'd better let me dress her up, yeah?”

“Wouldn't dream of arguin’,” Louis says, and she laughs.

Karen leans into their little powwow. “Louis,” she whispers, and checks to make sure Liam is still engrossed in conversation with his dad. “I've been filled in on everything.”

“Yeah?” Louis says, his nerves spiking.

“And of course I think it's wonderful,” Karen says, giving him a warm look. “You're good for him, I know you are. You make him so happy.”

“Thanks,” Louis says in relief, his voice sounding a little ragged.

“Of course!” Karen says, shaking her head. “Though I could _kill_ Zayn, right now.”

“Oh, I know!” Jay whispers in a scandalized way. “Punching _Liam_? What the hell!”

“If you do end up seeing Trisha soon…”

“We’ll have a chat, definitely.”

Louis is growing uncomfortable with this topic, and Lottie picks up on this. “Hey, you wanted to visit with Anne,” she reminds their mum.

“Right!” Jay says, and they take their leave, with promises to be right back.

Sam detaches himself from a throng of security and crew and makes his way over to Louis.

“Hey,” he says, and shakes Louis’ hand powerfully. “Congratulations.”

Louis returns the strong shake. “Thanks, mate.”

“We didn't think you could hold out,” he says. “Quite honestly. I think Modest had an office pool going on what date you'd drop out at.”

Louis’ cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. “Charitable of them,” he says, with all of the iciness he feels.

“Well,” Sam says with a shrug. “It's never been done before, kiddo. You proved how tough you are. I shouldn't have doubted you.”

“I probably would have doubted me as well,” Louis admits. “No harm done, in the end.”

Sam grins. “Please go get some rest,” he says.

“Believe me, that is all I'll be doin’.”

Sam gives him a nod and turns to leave. At the last moment, he turns back.

“Actually, one person told me you probably could do it,” he says.

“Who?”

“Simon.”

Louis is befuddled. “Jones?”

Sam laughs. “Cowell. Strange, I know... but he told me that from the very beginning. ‘Louis might actually be able to pull this off.’”

Louis thinks he could be knocked over with a feather. Sam waves, and makes his way back into the crowd.

 

*

 

Zayn rings at half one, right before Louis is about to set his phone aside for the night.

“Who’s’at?” Liam says, half-asleep.

“Your favorite person in the whole world,” Louis says, sitting up a bit.

“Who?” Liam says, confused.

Louis laughs. “Go back to sleep, Payno.” He picks up. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Zayn says. “Just wanted to say congrats, and good work, and all ‘at.”

“Yeah, thanks. We stuck the landing,” Louis says.

Zayn is quiet for a few moments, like he hadn't planned anything else to say. He finally comes out with, “You feeling good?”

“Surprisingly energetic,” Louis says. “I'm not turnin’ cartwheels or anything, but it's a short trip home and then I'm there until D-Day.”

“Right,” Zayn says. “Text me when you get back, like. And if you need anythin’, go ahead and call.”

“Thanks, mate. Although I'd expect between Oli and Christina, I'm not gonna need much in the way of like, grocery shoppin’ or owt.”

He'll have Liam, too, but he makes a point not to mention this.

Zayn snorts. “Call anyways,” he says.

Louis is a little uncomfortable with Zayn’s sudden turn for the pleasant, and tries to hurry him along. “I've got the doctor in another two weeks, so…”

“I know. I'll be there.”

Louis tries not to sigh aloud. He was hoping Zayn would be busy so Liam could come with him to that one. “Right. Good. See you then.”

Zayn seems to get the hint and says goodnight. After Louis hangs up with him, Liam sleepily pulls him closer.

“I didn't hear any arguing,” Liam murmurs.

Louis nods. “Wasn't any.”

“Makes me nervous. Is that fucked up?”

“Nah, makes me nervous, too,” Louis admits. “Maybe he was drunk.”

Liam wordlessly reaches out and rubs Louis’ belly through his pyjamas, like he's a Buddha. Louis covers Liam's hand with his, and they lie there like that for a bit.

“It's really happening,” Louis says, and he gets that feeling again that he had quite a bit in May and June, the sense that he's falling headlong into an abyss. “No more tour life, it's real business now.”

Liam nods. “Baby,” he says, and nothing else.

“How elaborate,” Louis comments. “Hot takes.”

“Well, I'm very tired, Tommo,” Liam huffs. “C’mere and be the little spoon. I sleep best like that.”

“Alright, but if I get too hot in my sleep, I _will_ kick ya,” Louis grumbles, sliding down on the bed and pressing his back up against Liam. Liam strokes his shoulder.


	17. Chapter 17

LONDON, NOVEMBER 7, 2015

“D’you think it'll look ridiculous that I'm pregnant in the Drag Me Down video?” Louis calls to Liam.

He's lying in bed and Liam is in his walk-in, crashing around looking for things to pack in the Baby Suitcase. Liam had actually written ‘Baby Suitcase’ on a piece of paper and pinned it to the luggage. Louis crossed this out and wrote OH FUCK D-DAY underneath it.

As soon as he returned from visiting his family, Liam got a bug up his arse about getting everything ready for the baby, and has barely sat down or relaxed all day. He's sent Oli out shopping for supplies, and called Jay to send over anything that was Louis’ that she wants the baby to have. Louis has just been observing him in fond amusement.

He comes back into the room holding two jackets, saying, “What?”

“Will I look stupid in the Drag Me Down video? I’ve just remembered how soon it'll be out.”

Liam looks confused and shakes his head. “We saw the dailies, Tommo. You looked fine, you just look pregnant in a few shots.”

“I know,” Louis says, annoyed. He clicks his tongue. “But…”

“Beyoncé was pregnant in Countdown,” Liam points out. “Remember? So, which jacket?”

“Yeah, I’m no Beyonce. Which one do I want to go to hospital in? Neither of those.”

“Love, you'll need a jacket, it'll be January.”

“Pick a less dorky option then,” Louis instructs him. Liam sighs in a long-suffering way and returns to the closet.

“I feel like we should be preparing more for the actual birth part,” Louis says. “Aren't I supposed to learn Lamaze or something? I’ve told Joan I just want to be shot full of narcotics.”

“If you learned Lamaze, you'd need less narcotics,” Liam calls.

“I’d like that stuff that like, our mum's mums had,” Louis says. “That twilight night-night stuff. I'd just like to be unconscious for the duration.”

“You haven't even decided who you want in there,” Liam points out, as he comes back with a jacket Louis actually likes. Louis nods his approval and Liam dumps it in the suitcase.

“If I'm unconscious, I don't need anybody, right?” Louis jokes. Liam gives him a stern look.

“You're bein’ so fuckin’ un-fun about this,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “I'll talk it over with Zayn when I see him, alright?”

Liam kneels and starts rifling through the suitcase while he glances at a checklist he printed off from the Internet.

“He’ll want to be there,” he murmurs.

Louis’ stomach lurches. “We’ll see,” he says.

 

LONDON, NOVEMBER 15, 2015

“She's in a fantastic position,” Joan says, shutting the sonogram off. “Looks excellent.”

Louis is disappointed to have the image gone; he loves seeing the baby’s face and teeny hands.

“Right,” he says. “So what's that mean, like -- head first?”

Zayn laughs and squeezes his hand.

“Head first, correct,” Joan says. “And no cervical insufficiencies.”

“Good to know my cervix is sufficient,” Louis says.

Joan nods firmly, like a headmistress. “Very good cervix,” she says. “Excellent setup overall. You've got a nice uterus, kiddo.”

Louis laughs.

He likes her London office. It isn't sterile like he had expected; the rooms are full of great lush plants that spill forth from their pots, the front facade is all old brick and wrought-iron, and the piped-in music is a great London jazz station that he and Liam listen to in the car sometimes when they're driving around, feeling creatively blocked.

“So what really happens here?” Zayn says. “Or maybe I don't wanna know? I haven't got much knowledge on omega anatomy.”

“Skipped that lesson?” Louis teases him.

“I hardly ever skipped lessons,” Zayn says seriously, stroking his hand with his thumb. “But I didn't pay much attention during sex ed, no.”

“That explains why we're here, then,” Louis cracks. “‘Cos I used to skive and go start shit with Stan.”

Zayn humors him with a snort.

“Well, you know all fetuses originate with a sort of vagina,” Joan says, and she brings over a few of those clay anatomical molds that obstetrics people love.

“Right,” Louis says. “I mean, me mum was a midwife, so I do know a bit.”

“Oh, good,” Joan says. “I expect she'll want to come in and yell at me while you’re giving birth, then?”

“Probably,” Louis concedes.

“So in alpha and beta men, that birth canal closes entirely and everything sort of lowers to be external. But in omega men, you know, you're sort of…” she uses her finger to trace the testes and then the ovaries on the little model she has. “Doubled up, reproductively. So that birth canal doesn't fully close, but it does move back a bit to make room for the testes and the penis. Have you ever looked at it, with a hand mirror or something?”

“I truly can't say that I have.”

“Well, except for around the time of childbirth, it's sort of nothing more than a very subtle slit between, you know --”

“Balls and arse,” Louis supplies.

“Snatch,” Zayn puts in. “Taint.”

“Gooch!” Louis exclaims.

“Ah, there's a good one.”

Joan gets an expression of reluctant amusement. “Whatever you'd like to call that area. So, because intercourse obviously occurs anally,” -- Zayn and Louis make a face at each other at the word _intercourse_ \-- “unlike the vagina, its only purpose is to facilitate birth. Your body, right now, is being pumped with the hormone relaxin,” Joan says, and she reaches out and presses her fingers into his hip.

“Relaxin,” Zayn repeats. “Like, I'm relaxin’?”

Louis snorts.

The doctor ignores this. “It causes your pelvic bones to loosen and your hips to widen a bit, and just generally frees up the entire area to allow the baby to pass through,” she says. “When you go into labor, your birth canal will dilate and efface, then afterward return to normal.”

“Sick,” Louis says, feeling oddly detached from all of this and a little giggly. “Bit disgusting. How bad does this all hurt?”

“It depends, but most people find it fairly painful,” Joan says. “I recall you were telling me at our last visit that you definitely want a drug-assisted labor?”

“As many drugs as I can have,” Louis says.

“Is that alright?” Zayn says, glancing at her in concern.

Joan nods effusively. “An epidural won't harm the baby at all. And you'll begin feeling your body practice contractions in a month or so, which should give you some idea of the overall discomfort level.”

Louis clears his throat and squeezes Zayn’s hand.

“You warnin’ me of what kind of hand crunchin’s to come?” Zayn says to him playfully.

Louis’ heart twists. “Ahh… Joan, could you give us a mo?” he says.

The doctor obliges. Louis sees dread rising on Zayn’s face, and he feels sort of awful that Zayn is so used to getting bad news from him.

“About the delivery room,” Louis says, stroking his wrist and meeting his dark, lushly fringed eyes.

Zayn’s eyebrows crease, and he starts to pull his hand back. Louis holds on tighter and doesn't let him.

“I'm gonna be in there,” Zayn says, his voice rising. “Louis. C’mon, mate. I'm the father!”

“I didn't even say anything,” Louis protests. “Literally haven’t said a word yet!”

“Yeah, well, I _know_ you!”

“Calm down…”

Zayn tugs his hand from Louis’ and gets up, leaning his back against the wall. “Can't believe this,” he mutters, his jaw tight. “I know exactly what I'm about to hear, and I can't fuckin’ believe it.”

“What are you about to hear?”

Zayn looks over at him, cold as can be. “Liam,” he says. “You want Liam in there.”

Louis’ heart drops and he's swallowed by guilt. He looks down. “That isn't it,” he says, even though it partially is, even though Liam is the only person he can picture holding his hand through this when he can picture anyone at all.

“Then what is it?” Zayn snaps, bouncing his leg in irritation.

“I just dunno if I want _anyone_ in,” Louis says. “It's sort of, like, intense. You know? I might want to go it myself.”

Zayn seems to soften a bit at this. “Fine, I get that,” he says. “But Louis… Look, I know we've gone through some bullshit these past few months, but this is somethin’ we’ll both always remember, it's big, I want to be there --”

Louis feels tears pricking at his eyes and he shakes his head. “Aye, I know. Why don't we just… see, like? An’ if I do want to be alone… you'll be the first person besides me to meet her, I promise.”

Zayn nods. “Alright,” he says in a soft voice.

“Please c’mere,” Louis says, sitting up a bit and stretching his arms out. “I feel like shit with you standin’ there making that face at me.”

Zayn chuckles and comes close to Louis, sitting on the edge of the bed. They wrap their arms around each other. Louis buries his face against Zayn’s warm chest, where his heart is beating like a hummingbird behind his ribs, and Zayn lets a hand drop to Louis’ middle to rest against his baby bump.

 

*

 

“Ay,” Louis shouts from the foyer as he tosses his umbrella to the side. “I'm back!”

“In the living room!” Liam yells.

Louis follows the sound of his voice and finds Liam sitting on the couch, staring with an ambivalent expression at a massive, grotesquely opulent crib.

Oli looks over at him and pulls at a strip of the plastic covering on the crib, revealing more of it. “Ta-da!” he exclaims.

“What the hell is that monstrosity?” Louis mutters as he kicks his trainers off, with some level of difficulty as he can’t see his feet anymore.

“It's a _bit_ flashy,” Liam says tactfully. “I think I'm just now starting to get used to it.”

“It's like, over the top, is what it is,” Louis says, coming over and sitting next to Liam, who wraps his arm around his shoulders. “Am I Mariah Carey, now?”

“Well,” Oli says, slapping a hand against it. “It's cool, y’know? I mean, your baby's got cool dads, it's gonna have good taste.”

“Good taste? It's got gold Cupids on,” Louis points out.

“Twenty-four karat,” Oli says proudly.

Liam strokes Louis’ shoulder sympathetically.

“Mate, I love you,” Louis says, “but I wanted somethin’ a bit more low-key, y’know? I don't even want to know how much that cost me, by the way.”

“How'd you want to do up the nursery, then?” Oli says, taking a seat on a pouf. “And it was sixty grand, for the record.”

“Sixty grand for a crib!” Louis exclaims. “Shit, just fuckin’ chuck her in the back an’ let her sleep with my footballs!” He leans backward, hand over his face like a Victorian-era maiden. His hips and lower back are positively killing him.

“I just want to, like, do it up nice for ‘er?” he says. “I haven't thought much about it.”

“Girly?” Oli presses him. “Not girly? We ought to hire somebody.”

“Good idea,” Louis says. “Dunno, I don't go in much for girls havin’ to be girly from day one. Maybe a spot of pink.”

“I've seen this mobile online,” Oli says, excitedly. “You can operate it from any room in the house, it's got four different options and the little spinnies come in an’ out --”

“So, how much of my money are you trying to spend, exactly?” Louis says, laughing.

“Please, Mr Wooster,” Oli says, rolling his eyes. “You're loaded, you can shell out for your kid.”

“When she's old enough to appreciate it, I'll spoil her like mad,” Louis argues. “But solid gold Cupids for a baby seem a bit much.”

Liam pats his shoulder and motions for him to sit forward, then starts rubbing his back. Louis lets out a moan of relief and gratitude.

“Right,” Oli says, getting up like he's been cued to leave by the sudden boyfriendly intimacy. “Well, your taste is your taste, lad. Apparently it's not as good as mine, which I'm disappointed to find out…”

Louis gives him the finger and rolls his eyes, amused.

“I'll have somebody take the piece back,” Oli continues. “Shame, ‘cos I'm a bit in love with it, honestly.”

“Got to get a baby of your own, mate,” Louis says, pointing to him.

“I'll get right on it,” Oli says. “Maybe I’ll get Calvin totally pissed and we can have a go without a rubber.”

“Good plan,” Louis says, laughing and waving as he departs. Liam snorts as well, and continues to rub Louis’ back.

“You talk with Zayn?” Liam says, after a bit.

Since Louis is facing away from him, he freely makes an annoyed face at the displeasure with which Liam says Zayn’s name now.

“I did,” Louis says. “Actually got him to understand I might do the delivery alone.”

Liam _mmm_ s. “But he does want to be in there.”

“Aye, course he does.”

“And for me not to be.”

“Well, yeah, Payno. Brought that up himself, actually.”

“So it's either just him or you're alone,” Liam says, rubbing his back a bit harder. “D’you want that?”

Louis feels a surge of anger and annoyance -- that Liam is right, that he can't do anything about it, that Liam is saying this to him like he's his therapist or his mum and not his man.

“You know what I want,” he says stiffly. “You know I want you. Just wouldn't be right, would it? Wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“This is about what’s best for you, though, not what's appropriate.”

Louis moves away from his touch and Liam gets the hint and settles back on the couch. Louis turns to face him.

“Look,” he says fiercely, “you're all Mr ‘I don't want to drive a wedge with you and Zayn’, so stop forcin’ this conversation.”

Liam sighs. “It's hypocritical, yeah, but this is different, you know? It's going to be a lot to deal with --”

“D’you think I don't know that?” Louis explodes. “God! Just admit that this isn't all to do with what's good for _me_! You want to be in there with me as badly as I want you in there!”

“Fine!” Liam bursts out. “Fine, I want to be there really badly! I mean, fuck, Louis, I'm fucking in love with you, what do you expect? I want to comfort you and hold your hand --”

“I can _do_ this,” Louis hollers. “If I've got to do it alone, I can do it --”

“I know you can, I know how tough you are, I don't want you to _have_ to!” Liam says, his expression pained and crestfallen. “I don't want it to be either Zayn or nobody!”

Louis rubs his forehead. “It's so far down the road,” he mutters.

“Two months, barely.”

“Two months exactly,” Louis says. “I'm thirty-two weeks.”

Liam's quiet. Louis stares at his own hands, steadying his breathing.

“I don't want to make this harder on you,” Liam says.

“Then you're cordially invited not to,” Louis says, his tone clipped.

Liam puts his hands up. “Okay,” he says, rising from the couch. “It’s tabled. Want anything from the kitchen?”

“Aye, some arsenic,” Louis says drily.

Liam comes over and runs his hand over the back of Louis’ head, affectionately mussing his hair and pulling his face forward to his torso. Louis kisses his abs through his shirt and Liam laughs at the tickle.

“Water?” he says, his voice gentler.

“Water sounds great, Payno.”


	18. Chapter 18

DONCASTER, DECEMBER 23, 2015

Promo drags on without Louis. The other boys bravely stagger through interviews and pressers, now down by two. Niall cracks lively jokes aplenty about Louis’ absence, while Harry is more droll about the topic, and Liam generally adopts a fake-smiling, slightly stricken expression like he's afraid one of these presenters or interviewers has somehow sussed out that they're fucking. He sometimes goes to look to Louis out of habit when he's talking about the record, or writing in general, which pains Louis deeply every time he notices it.

In late December, a very heavily pregnant Louis wearily makes his yearly pilgrimage to his town of origin for his birthday and Christmas. For the first few hours, he suffers gamely through the same comments from all his relatives -- exclamations of awed surprise at how far along he is, questions about the future of the band, his future plans in general, and in the case of his sisters, demands to know what he got them for Christmas and if he's picked a baby name.

Dan is kind enough to vacate his favorite lounge chair for the evening so Louis can collapse into it and not move for five hours. Around eleven, everyone gets to stringing popcorn, including Louis who does a very half-arsed job at it. Phoebe and Fizzy come over and start stringing tinsel on him, first in his hair and then over his belly.

“Oh, cheers,” he says, exasperated.

“It's festive!” Lottie shouts from across the room, where she's putting together an incredibly elaborate popcorn string.

“Leave him alone, girls,” Jay calls over to them. “Your brother’s very tired.”

“I want to know exactly how the baby gets in,” Phoebe says to him, quite sternly. “They haven't told us yet in school, it's next form.”

Dan looks alarmed from over his newspaper.

“Oh, loves,” Louis says, ruffling her hair. “No you don't.”

“I do, though!”

“Alright,” Louis says, and settles back in his chair. Fizzy and Lottie watch him with amused trepidation. “Uhh, when two people like each other quite a lot, they…”

“Yeah?”

“They, y’know, get together and have a good time together, and sometimes that makes a baby.”

He spreads his hands, like this clinches it.

“But _how_ ,” Phoebe whines. “And why aren't you together with Zayn, if he's the dad? Why isn't he here? I like Zayn!”

Louis is too mentally exhausted and well-accustomed to the whims and rudeness of children to be hurt by this. “Love,” he says gently, “I'm sure you barely remember Zayn.”

“No, I absolutely _do_ remember him!”

Jay comes over and engages Phoebe, bringing her over to help Dan with his popcorn. Then she helps Louis to his feet.

“Come get some fresh air with me,” she says. “Stretch your legs a bit?”

Louis readily agrees and follows her.

It's cool outside, which feels wonderful. He leans against the side of the house, desperately trying to get some sort of relief for his aching back.

“Strange to see you so pregnant this time of year,” Jay says, looking at him warmly. “I always think of having you ‘round this time, how it was so cold out, and I sympathized with the Virgin Mary, and all that.”

“Yeah, I'm ready to be finished,” Louis says, itching for a cigarette. “Any time now.” He snaps his fingers.

“You've got a little bit to go,” she says, laughing. “Oh, and happy birthday, again.”

“Not quite!” Louis protests. “I'm not twenty-four yet! Don't age me before my time!”

“You'll wonder someday how you ever thought that was old,” she teases him. “What day are you due, again? I wrote it down somewhere…”

“The fourteenth.”

Jay nods. “So, how are things with Liam?”

Louis looks away from her and pushes his fringe out of his eyes with his fingers. “Good,” he mutters. “Be better if it wasn't for Zayn.”

“I know,” she says sympathetically. 

“I do love him,” Louis says, clearing his throat.

“Liam, or Zayn?”

“ _What_?” he says, looking at her like she’s gone mad. “What the hell, mum?”

“You didn't specify!” Jay says defensively.

“Liam! Of course!”

“It would be okay to still love Zayn in some ways,” she says. “You were very close, and he's the father of your child --”

“I’m in love with Liam,” Louis cuts her off. “I still care for Zayn, aye, but I'm in love with Liam.”

He doesn't doubt this in his heart whatsoever, but the doubts of others bother him intensely. He doesn't like thinking the people he loves feel as if he may have picked wrong, when he knows he hasn't, and he doesn't want Liam to have any more reason to feel insecure.

Jay puts her hands up. “Look, I'm not any great Zayn fan, you know that.”

“I do.”

Louis settles back against the side of the house again, his head beginning to pound. Suddenly, all he wants is to lie down.

“And I'm glad you have Liam,” Jay says. “I am, I promise. He's very dear to me.”

“You know, he's been wonderful these past two months,” Louis says fiercely. “He's done everything for me that he could. Zayn just keeps offerin’ and not actually doin’ much.”

“Maybe he thinks you'd turn him down.”

“Oh, bollocks, mum… after a certain point, that excuse don’t cut it.”

The baby is kicking him quite hard tonight, and he winces as she gets in a particularly good one.

“Christ, I saw that kick from over here,” Jay says in concern. “Want to lie down?”

“Yes,” he groans.

She helps him upstairs and makes him up a bed. After Louis is thoroughly tucked into bed, she glances at her watch and kisses his head.

“Well, happy birthday officially,” she murmurs. “And happy Christmas Eve, darling.”

“Mum,” he says sleepily, and grabs her hand. “Zayn and me wouldn't be good for each other, you know? It might work at first, but it would go bad. You do know that?”

Jay makes a soft noise of restrained sadness. “Unfortunately, I do, love.”

“Happy Christmas Eve,” he tells her. She smiles bittersweetly at him.

“I'm just a bit torn,” she says. “Zayn… he seems to want to try.”

“He does,” Louis murmurs. “I don't expect him to be a deadbeat. It’s just complicated.”

Jay strokes his hair some more.

"You're angry with him for making you vulnerable," she says.

"Mum..."

"No, let me talk," she says softly. 

Louis sighs and rubs at his eyes.

"Things he's done, that weren't out of malice," she murmurs. "Getting you pregnant, leaving the band, not talking to you --"

"Calling me bitchy on Twitter --" Louis spits.

"Alright, alright," Jay says, soothing, smoothing his hair back. "Alright. But all the other things. Everything that scared you, and turned your world upside down. I know you just want things to be stable and steady again. I know that's why Liam looks so, so good to you, right now."

Louis clears his throat, pushing down the sharp ache that's rising in him. "And what -- can you blame me?"

"No, of course not... I wish he'd just never left the damn band," she says mournfully. "If this had to happen. I wish this all wasn't so bitter and awful between you."

"Oh, mum..." 

"It's just talk, Louis. It's alright. You haven't got to say anything back."

Louis' breath catches, and he swallows. She continues to sit with him. After a while, he pretends to be drifting off, and she takes her leave.

When she’s gone, Louis opens his eyes. He can hear the muffled sounds of merriment from downstairs, and is a little wistful for when he wasn’t pregnant, when he was spry and energetic and unencumbered. Most days now he feels like he carries an entire round world inside of him, a five o’clock world that hasn’t woken yet, that’s still peaceful and heavy under a blanket of anticipation. In the moments when he isn’t too cranky or exhausted, he lets himself revel in the solemn wonder of being so close to meeting his daughter.

She makes him feels separate from the rest of the world, in a way that isn’t at all unpleasant. They all see her as an extension of him, still, but Louis has begun to conceptualize her as her own person as she draws nearer to leaving him. He feels her constantly, her movements and shifts, in a way that no one else does. She still somewhat feels like she’s just his, only his, the same way she did when he wasn’t showing yet and hardly anyone knew about her.


	19. Chapter 19

LONDON, JANUARY 3, 2016

“Is that a van out front?” Louis yells to Liam.

“What?”

“Is that a _van_ , I said?”

Liam comes crashing down the stairs, towelling off his wet hair as he does. “I didn't hear anything.”

“Well, _I_ did,” Louis says. “I heard a van beeping.”

Liam looks at him, confused. “Out front?”

“Yeah, out front, Costello.”

“Well,” Liam says, and gestures for him to lead the way.

They step out onto the porch to see a massive removal van in the circular drive, with a black Corvette parked behind it.

Zayn steps out of the Corvette, looking sultry in aviators and leather. Liam's grip on Louis’ shoulder tightens. Louis leans back against the breadth of his body to reassure him, and Liam's hand moves protectively to the crook of Louis’ neck.

“What's this, mate?” Louis calls to Zayn.

“Supplies,” Zayn says, approaching them but keeping his distance. He ignores Liam completely. “I've been so busy with the record, I know I ‘aven't really done much since you got back, so….” He gestures at the truck. “Full of anything you might need.”

“Have you just knocked over a Babies R Us?” Louis says.

Liam leans his face against the back of Louis’ neck to hide his laughter.

Zayn smiles, although it's the tense one he tends to get in Liam's presence. “Nah, everythin’s legally sourced. If anythin’, they was robbin’ me. D’you know how expensive diapers are?”

“Aye,” Louis says, laughing. “I do.”

The man in the van pops his head out. “Where d’you want all this?”

“I'll handle that,” Liam murmurs to Louis. “You want to sit and have some tea with Zayn?”

“Sounds good, Payno, thanks,” Louis says. Liam smiles at him and gives a playful, possessive grab at his arse before taking his leave. Louis watches him go in pleased surprise.

“Zayn,” he calls. “Cuppa?”

“Absolutely,” Zayn says, following him in.

He insists on making the tea and allowing Louis to sit, which Louis does with relief. He's a bit uncomfortable being around Zayn lately; Zayn has been looking so fit, and Louis is insecure in being as pregnant as he is. It's fine around Liam, who would still think he was sexy if a foot grew out of his head, but he can never shake the crazy feeling he gets around Zayn that he's got to be constantly working to measure up. He feels he’s somehow got to justify the fact that Zayn ever repeatedly had sex with him -- that Zayn ever railed him senseless against walls in club bathrooms, or cried his name with ecstasy in hotel beds, that his come ever dribbled out of Zayn’s mouth or his nails ever sunk into the flesh of Zayn’s back.

“So how's the record comin’?” he says, for lack of anything else to talk about.

“Really good, actually,” Zayn says, his face brightening a bit with excitement. He launches straight in and gives Louis a whole wealth of background on his recording process.

Louis takes great pains to look unambiguously, genuinely interested. Deep down, he knows that Zayn’s solo career in general is too tied up for him in the knotty, thorny burr of betrayal and disappointment that he carries in his heart -- he's bound to think the entire album is rubbish no matter how it actually sounds -- but he values this fragile harmony between him and Zayn over his need to run his mouth.

“You listen to ours yet?” he says, stirring his decaf tea. He doesn't even remember to miss caffeine anymore, it's been so long.

Zayn sighs, like he was expecting this. “I’ve heard a few singles.”

“You liked Drag Me Down, right?” Louis presses him, not willing to let him get away with hedging. “And hated Perfect? I think I caught that in an interview.”

Zayn glances up. “You read my interviews?”

Louis laughs and meets his eyes. “Just checkin’ to see what you say about me,” he says coolly.

Zayn shrugs. “Same pat answers every time. Modest’s got my bollocks in a vice.”

“What would you say if they didn't?”

Zayn stirs his tea rather loudly and has a sip. “Same things, I suppose. I've got nothin’ to add to this whole tabloid cycle about us. Sort of makes me sick, actually.”

Louis nods. "Same."

“So…” Zayn studies him and adopts an apprehensive look. “How much of it’s about me? The record?”

Louis exhales through his nostrils. He laces his hands together on the counter and chooses his words very carefully.

“None of it specifically,” he says. “Some of it vaguely. It's about everythin’ -- Sophia, El, the fans, Harry and Niall contributed a lot of their own stuff -- Walking In The Wind is sort of about family dyin’...” He looks up. “You don't really give, though, do you?”

“I'm interested,” Zayn corrects him. “In the… what ended up comin’ out. Since we'd recorded a bit before I left.”

“If you'd listen to Never Enough, you'd recognize the chords and some of the lyrics,” Louis says, drumming his fingers on the counter. The baby is sleepy today, which isn't saying much since his Braxton Hicks have begun in earnest and been tormenting him all week.

“I didn't really write about you,” he adds. “Not about me an’ you, I mean. More just about you leavin’ the band. And Liam actually wrote more on that than I did.”

Zayn nods and looks away.

“You didn't have a shower,” he comments after a moment.

“Huh?”

“Baby shower.”

“Ohh,” Louis says. “I dunno, bit tacky for rich people, isn't it? Give me all these things, even though I can afford ‘em? And embarrassin’, I don't know… Thought it might be a bit awkward, with how things are.”

Zayn lets out a rueful little laugh. “Probably.”

“People can drop by and visit after she's born. I gave all my friends a standin’ invitation to come round for a bit, meet her, drop some gifts off if they want. Your family and mine are always welcome, of course. An’ Liam's friends, too.”

Zayn sort of flinches at the mention of Liam. “So you two are gettin’ on well, still?”

Louis nods. It isn't entirely true; things between them have been a bit tense from how much they’ve had to discuss Zayn, and all of Louis’ impending legal worries about custody, but they were so relieved and happy to see each other after being apart for the holidays that it reminded Louis how steadfast and powerful their bond is.

“I picked nannies,” Louis says. “Two who are sort of on call whenever. They wouldn't start on any kind of regular basis until she's a little older.”

Zayn nods. “They nice?”

“They're great,” Louis says. “I got like, two old nan types, look like they bake scones all day. No young fit ones.”

“Don't trust Liam?” Zayn says, with a tilted smile.

“Myself, more like,” Louis says drily. “Nah, y’know… we're solid.”

“Wish I could say I was happy about that,” Zayn says tightly.

“Look, I need your cooperation sortin’ out the legal end,” Louis says, fed up with his dodging. “You and I have got to agree. And soon.”

Zayn's eyes flash. “I'll do my best, mate,” he says, and slides off his stool. “I've got to get back to work…”

“And Geeg?” Louis snarks at him, following him out.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Don't call her Geeg.” He turns back to Louis and trails his fingers over his belly.

“It's really close now,” Zayn says, his voice different. He looks a bit overcome and apprehensive for a moment, then returns to his regular disaffected self.

“It is,” Louis agrees. “‘S’why I'm a house.”

“You could never be a house,” Zayn scoffs.

“No, _you_ could never be a house, greyhound man. I'm currently quite house-sized.” Louis gently swats him to get him on his way. “Go on, get back to work, yeah? Like I said, I’m countin’ on that child support.”

“Alright, alright,” Zayn laughs, and squeezes his hand as he departs. “Ring me soon!” he shouts as he gets into the Corvette.

“Will do,” Louis yells after him.

He finds Liam in the garage, helping the delivery man stack boxes. He observes for a moment, enjoying watching Liam’s muscles move under his shirt, seeing him sweat and hearing him grunt.

“Need any help?” he finally says.

Liam starts laughing. “Yeah, just go on and grab the heaviest one. About time you offered, lazyarse.”

Louis grabs a wadded up ball of bubble wrap off a shelf and nails him in the back with it. Liam turns around in mock offense, and Louis grins innocently at him.

“Can I steal you to come watch a film with me?” he says. “And possibly rub my neck? Feet? Back? My entire body? Or possibly just glass me over the ‘ead so I can actually get some sleep?”

The delivery man snorts. Liam puts one last box away and says to him, “Finish up in here, mate?” while handing him a crisp hundred out of his wallet.

“Can do,” he says. “Your friend there hired me for a whole three hours, so once I'm done here I'm jus’ knocking off to go fuck about.”

Liam wraps his arm around Louis as they walk into the house together. He often does that these days, like he's afraid Louis is going to tip over if he isn’t ballasted.

He kisses Louis on the side of the head.

“Don't ask about Zayn,” Louis pre-empts.

“Wasn't going to!” Liam says defensively. “Actually, I was going to suggest we ought to have a sort of a Chinese wall there. I don’t want us to discuss everything you two say in private. Like, in general, but especially when the baby's here.”

“How am I supposed to let you in on parenting decisions, then?” Louis says, laughing.

“You're taking it too far, Tommo,” Liam says, patting him on the bicep. “I just mean things that are between you, I don't need to be in on every single part of them. And we shouldn't talk shit. For her sake. To not make things more complicated.”

“How else will she learn to talk shit at her father’s knee?” Louis says, mock-incredulous. “No, I'm jokin’, I agree.”

“Heyy,” Liam sings happily. “Liam had a good idea-a…”

“A lot of your ideas _are_ good, lad.” Louis corrects, as they settle on the couch. He sits gingerly; his hips ache constantly now. “It's just you have so many of them, they can’t all be winners.”

“That's fair,” Liam says with a chuckle. “So, does he have any idea I'll keep living with you after the baby’s born?”

Louis feels prickles of anxiety. “We've sort of dodged the entire thing,” he admits. “I think it's what he expects. I'm guessin’ if he's got an objection, it's going to come out after she's born, or in court, or summat. He hasn't come straight out and asked, and I haven't told him.”

“But, like, honestly -- he hasn't been around much,” Liam points out. “Does he even know I'm living here now?”

“He's been around a bit,” Louis mutters, picking up the remote and flicking channels. “You want to watch this Liam Neeson thing, with the wolves?”

“Tommo, does he know?” Liam says, in that boyish way of his. He studies Louis with a vulnerable expression, his mouth tilted down and his dark eyes large. “He's got to have noticed.”

“We haven't discussed it,” Louis says, clearing his throat. “He’s already acknowledged it, sort of, in passin’. He's been trying to avoid fighting with me lately, I don't think he wants to stress me when I'm so close.”

“So it's going to come out down the road,” Liam murmurs, as he pulls a blanket over both of them.

“Aye,” Louis says. He leans against Liam's shoulder, and Liam strokes his head.

“Look,” he continues, “you're right that ‘e’s been spotty in seein’ me since tour ended. I've been cutting him slack, hoping that it's just him hitting a busy time with his music and not bein’ used to being able to see me any time he wants, but…” His throat gets tight, but he talks through it. “We’ll see, like. In the meantime, you've been great.”

Liam laughs bashfully. “I'm just doing what I said I would,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, well,” Louis says, gazing at him. “You're a good one. Do I tell you that enough?”

“You do, but I can stand to hear it as much as you wanna tell me,” Liam says fondly. “And you know I _want_ to do all this, right?”

Louis feels himself coming over all emotional, so he clears his throat, puts the movie on and cuddles up against Liam.


	20. Chapter 20

LONDON, JANUARY 7, 2016

Louis spends the last few days -- though he doesn’t know as they’re occurring that these are in fact, the _last_ few days -- marooned in bed, being doted on near-obsessively by Liam.

Liam has gotten the OH FUCK D-DAY suitcase all together and worked out all the details of Louis’ plan with Joan. He and Oli have set the nursery set up, but Louis insisted on having the crib dragged into his bedroom, not wanting her to cry without being immediately soothed. Liam looked stricken at this, possibly envisioning years of interrupted sleep, but Louis reassured him it won’t be forever.

Zayn was ultimately the one to pick out and deliver the crib; an old-fashioned, ebony wood number with gold inlaid carvings that even Oli approves of. 

The house is piling up with baby gifts and supplies from everyone Louis knows, to a point where Liam finally stops worrying about being prepared and allows himself to relax and enjoy the eleventh hour with Louis. They while away the days laying in bed together. Liam plinks away at a keyboard and sings to his belly, and despite the intense discomfort that Louis is experiencing in nearly every part of his body, he finds he’s happier in these moments than he’s been in months.

His mum keeps offering to come stay, but Louis knows that would just encourage half the rest of his family to come stay, and he has an intense and growing urge to be a hermit.

“You’re nesting,” Liam told him, when he mentioned this.

“Isn’t nesting like, wantin’ to make your house nice?” Louis said, confused.

“I read in one of your books that sometimes it just means you want to hide away from everybody and have privacy,” Liam said, seeming proud of himself for remembering this. “Like go give birth alone in the woods or something.”

Louis made a face. “That sounds like a fucking nightmare, honestly.”

He doesn’t entirely want to be a hermit. He loves having Liam around, and hates when he leaves the room even for a moment. Louis loves that he's fallen in love, he loves being dragged under, left breathless and dashed against the rocks by needing someone so badly. It hasn’t happened since El, and he knows that if it weren’t happening now, he’d feel so much more apprehensive, so much more alone.

On the seventh, Louis wakes up highly irritated and thinking how sick of being pregnant he is, which he later reflects on as an instance of dramatic irony.

He’s having what he thinks are Braxton Hicks, although at some point around noon he does muse to himself that they’re occurring on an oddly regular basis. He doesn’t mention this to Liam, who’s working on finishing up a remix and being bothered by Mike about whether or not he’s going to the Brits.

By three, the contractions have worsened in intensity. Louis is pouring himself a glass of orange juice and wondering if he should call the doctor, and then his water breaks.

His head snaps up. He knows instantly what’s happened. Cold dread snakes all through his body, curling through his veins and seizing him up until he’s almost too rigid to move.

“Liam,” he yells at the top of his lungs, and turns around to lean back against the counter. His legs are wobbly with shock and he ends up sliding down until he’s collapsed on the floor in his own amniotic fluid. “ _Liam_!”

Liam bolts in, his face ashen, and Louis realizes how panicked his voice must have sounded.

Louis opens his mouth to speak and starts laughing quite hard. “So,” he says, grinning like a fool for no good reason. “I thought I’d been having those practice contractions quite badly today?”

“Yeah?” Liam says, staring him down, his eyes wide as can be.

“I think they’ve been real ones,” Louis says weakly. “As my water’s just broken.”

“Oh my God,” Liam says, his hands going to his face and then into his hair. He looks how Louis feels; like the world is coming to a proper and sudden end. “Oh, my God!”

“Don’t fall apart on me now, Payno, we’ve got a plan, don’t we?” Louis says impatiently. “Help me up, I might have another one soon.”

Liam immediately bends down to help him to his feet. “How long between them?” he says urgently.

“Fuck -- I’ve got no idea, alright? I’ll time the next two.”

Liam allows himself a brief moment to melt down, burying his face in his hands as he leans his elbows hard against the counter and letting out a long string of swears.

“That’s me that ought to be doing that,” Louis points out.

“You’re having a baby,” Liam moans into his palms, shaking his head. “A baby is going to come _out_ of you and we have to raise it and take care of it and I dunno _how_ …!”

“That’s all sort of been the plan for a while, now,” Louis says, nudging him on the hip so he’ll snap into action mode.

“I know!” Liam exclaims. “I feel like a fucking moron, ‘cos it just didn’t seem real, and now it totally does --”

“You bailin’ on me?” Louis teases him. “Bit late for that, isn’t it?”

Liam turns to him, horrified. “Never! Christ!”

“Then go get my suitcase,” Louis instructs him. “I’ll get Daniel to bring the car around.”

A contraction does strike him, then, and it becomes clear to him that they’re continuing to ramp up in intensity. Louis curses a loud blue streak all the way to the foyer.

 

*

 

Another one comes in the car, as he’s lying down across the seats. When it's passed and he gets done swearing, he checks the timer on his phone. His heart drops sickeningly in his chest and he feels another wave of sweat come over him.

“Louis,” Liam says, leaning into his vision.

“Only four minutes between them,” Louis says.

His mouth is completely dry; he swallows, but he thinks he’s stopped producing saliva out of fear.

“That isn’t good,” says Liam, who is now a sickly gray color. “Oh, fuck. That isn’t good at all. D’you feel like… it’s happening?”

“I feel like it should be happening,” Louis admits, with rising dread. “I’ve got like, an urge to bear down, now.”

Liam face falls so thoroughly that it’s almost comical.

“Oh, no, no, _no_ ,” Daniel screams from the front. “Do _not_ give birth in this car, bloody Christ, Louis! Cross your legs! We’ll be there in ten!”

“Hold on for Joan,” Liam begs him. “I can’t deliver a baby, I really can’t.”

“I could talk you through it,” Louis jokes, and then thinks he’s never seen Liam look more frightened.

“You need to call Zayn,” Liam says firmly, grabbing his wrist hard. “I’ll call your mum, alright? Call Zayn, right now.”

“How did this happen so fast?” Louis shouts in frustration as he rings Zayn. “I swear to bloody, buggering fuck! I thought it’d be a big fuckin’ neon sign blinkin’ over my head, hey, dumbarse, you stupid fuck, you’re in labor!”

“You need to pay more attention to your body,” Liam says to him, sounding exasperated.

When Louis sits up slightly, gives him an absolutely withering look and hollers, “Look, she's a WEEK early!” Liam immediately puts his hands up in surrender.

He gets Zayn’s voicemail, which he was both expecting and afraid of.

“Zayn,” Louis says. His voice sounds very small when he says it. “You need to come to hospital, right now. It’s happening. Call my mum, and you two can meet up with each other. Please come, please, Jesus Christ.”

He ends the call and texts him the same thing, half-listening to Liam explain the situation to Jay. After multiple apologies to her for the late notice, Liam hangs up and looks at him.

“Hey,” he says, pale and sweaty. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be panicking. It’s your time to panic --”

“Shut up,” Louis instructs him. “Just c’mere and hold my hand.”

Liam obliges. Louis squeezes it hard all through the next contraction as London flies by out the windows.

“Liam,” he whispers, starting to smile in spite of the clenching, horrendous pain and the terror that’s gripping him.

Liam gazes at him, his face all tight with worry. He moves Louis’ sweaty fringe off his forehead and strokes his hair gently.

“I’m havin’ a baby,” Louis says. It comes out little and sweet, like his singing voice.

Liam smiles too, then. He looks like he’s getting choked up.

“You’re having a baby,” he whispers back.

 

*

 

From the moment Louis couldn't reach Zayn, there was no doubt in his mind that he wanted Liam in the delivery room with him. Blessedly, Liam is smart and well-studied enough in Louis’ behavior that he senses this and makes no comment about it whatsoever, simply nodding when Joan asks if he's Louis’ support person and gowning up as asked.

“Try Zayn again,” is the only thing Louis says on the subject, when he's first up in the stirrups with Joan down by his feet checking everything out and a nurse measuring the circumference of his stomach. Liam nods and steps to the side to ring him. It's the only time he leaves his side during the whole ordeal.

“Still getting his voicemail,” Liam murmurs, returning and grabbing Louis’ hand again. “But Jay is on her way.”

“Right,” Louis murmurs. He's utterly exhausted from the intensifying contractions. He thinks it would be easier to deal with being run through repeatedly by a hot poker.

“Is this worse than the sea urchin?” Liam murmurs, kissing his head.

“Much worse,” Louis says with an anemic chuckle. A nurse comes over and gives Liam a cup of ice chips to administer to Louis.

“Louis,” Joan calls, and peeks up at them. “You're crowning, love.”

Louis rests his head back against the bed, his eyes swimming with tears as he stares up at the fluorescents. He feels Liam squeeze his hand again.

“You're about to tell me I can't have drugs,” he says, his voice weak and strained.

“Yes, I'm very sorry, but you're too far gone for drugs. You arrived already dilated near to ten centimeters… There wasn't much we could do. You very nearly had your girl in the car, actually. But the good news is that this will all be over very, very fast.”

“I'm right here,” Liam whispers to him. “Squeeze my hand as hard as you want, Tommo, tear it off my wrist if you want.”

Louis nods limply. “You up for it?” he asks Liam, cracking a half-hearted smile.

Liam grins at him. “You can do this,” he says.

Labor is absolute agony. Louis is dimly aware that he briefly blacks out once or twice from the pain.

Zayn calls right in the middle of it. Liam fumbles the mobile and, apparently at Zayn’s request, puts it to Louis’ ear. Louis screams a load of extremely hateful things at him, and the phone is quickly removed.

“He's on his way,” Liam tells Louis.

“I don't _care_ ,” Louis screams. He's soaked in sweat and shaking with how much pain he's in. He’s vomited once already. “Why isn’t he _here_?”

“Breathe,” the midwife instructs him. “Don't yell, breathe. On a count of three.”

He inhales on the count of three and then screams anyway. He can feel his nails digging into the flesh of Liam's arm, but Liam stands steadfast and doesn't make a sound.

“One more, Louis,” Joan urges him. “One more good one, and then you can meet your daughter, okay?”

Louis is spurred onward only by the word _daughter_. He complies, and then lies back, utterly spent and trembling with exhaustion. The lights seem to swim above him. Time blurs together.

There's a long moment, and then her cries pierce the air. Louis’ heart jolts.

“Holy shit,” Liam says, close to his face. “Louis. Louis…”

He grabs Louis by the back of the neck and very gently tips his head forward. Louis sees a tiny wailing figure being held by Joan, covered in blood and viscera, and tears begin to stream down his face.

“Give me her,” he demands, unable to stand the sound of her cries, wanting her in his arms this instant.

“We'll clean her up a bit for you,” Joan says, and motions Liam to come over. Louis lies his head back again, steeling himself to not let his heart be rended by her cries. He hears a _snip_ , a bit of quiet banter between Joan and Liam, and then Liam returns to his side.

“God,” Liam whispers in awe.

“C’mere,” Louis says, pulling him closer. Tears prick his eyes again. He wants his baby, and he wants his mum.

Liam holds onto him, pulling Louis’ head to his chest. Louis begins to sob openly against his sterile yellow gown.

“It happened,” he says, his voice cracking, “it happened --”

“You did it,” Liam murmurs to him lovingly, and wipes the tears from his eyes.

“Here you are,” Joan says, coming over to them holding a swaddled, fussing newborn and wearing a sunny smile. “Here's your daughter.”

Louis thinks he goes somewhat into shock when she's lowered into his waiting arms. He gazes at her, her little scrunched up red face and her fisted tiny hands. He has an overwhelming sensation that he knows he'll never be able to put to words; it's as if the entire earth has been upended. He can't bring his mind to grasp the entirety of what's happened; he feels himself coming to it in little pieces, one at a time. _This is my daughter’s hand. My daughter’s foot. She's so pink and angry, how long will she be pink and angry? Will her eyes stay blue like mine, or will they be like Zayn’s? She stopped crying when she was put in my arms, does she know she came from me? She's got dark hair, like Zayn…_

“I wasn't _ready_ ,” Louis chokes out, the tears still flowing.

“I don't think anything can make you ready for that,” Liam murmurs to him, kissing his head again. “You did such a good job, Louis, fuck, she's perfect…”

“Don't curse in front of my baby,” Louis softly admonishes, and they both laugh in a hysterical, exhausted way.

“I want my mum,” Louis says, looking up at him. “I -- fuck, I need Zayn, where is he?”

Liam puts a finger up as he takes out his mobile and leaves the room. Louis cradles the baby to him and kisses the top of her head. She smells wonderful to him, in some primal instinctive way.

“Good,” the midwife says, coming over. “Keep her on your chest like that…”

She massages his abdomen for a bit, and he briefly feels some more pain.

“Fuck,” he comments amiably.

“ _Now_ you're all done,” she says, triumphantly, and gives him some privacy.

The baby fusses a bit, and Louis kisses her forehead and her nose and her tiny little hands. He gazes at her, still uncomprehending of the idea that she's his, all his, this perfect little creature. He made her, and she's real. He made an entire precious little person and she’s lying on him, all pink and new.

“I love you,” Louis murmurs. “I love you like mad already, d’you know that? D’you know all I went through for you? I'll guilt you about it someday when you don't want to go to footie practice, or summat…”

She's got a little hospital bracelet on, just like he does. Things start coming back to him in fragments; Joan had called out that she had an Apgar of eight, or maybe nine? He'd prefer to remember it as a nine. She’s six pounds, six ounces.

“You're little,” Louis says to her. “Like me... You're a winter baby, too. And impatient like me. Couldn’t wait one more week, love?”

He notices that she fusses less when he talks to her.

There's a quiet knock at the door.

“Yeah?” he calls.

Liam peeks in the room. “Ran into him in the hall,” he says, and opens the door wider to reveal Zayn.

He stands there, flushed in the face and breathing hard like he's been running, jacket rumpled and deep regret in his eyes. He looks at Louis like there's nothing and no one he'd rather see.

Louis’ chest aches in a profound way.

“Get the fuck over here,” he says, his voice raw.

Zayn slinks into the room. His face is red and his eyes are teary. Liam gives Louis a quick thumbs up from the doorway and shuts it behind him, vanishing into the hallway.

“God,” Zayn breathes, coming over tentatively. Louis budges up so he can sit on the bed with them.

“I'm so sorry,” Zayn says as he climbs onto the bed, “I was in the studio, I didn't have my phone, I didn't ever think it'd happen so suddenly --”

“No apologies, alright?” Louis murmurs. “Go on, meet your daughter.”

He hands her over; his arms immediately feel far too empty, but he's entranced by the sight of Zayn leaning over their baby with tears in his eyes and awe on his face.

“She's perfect,” Zayn whispers. He strokes her fine dark hair.

“I know,” Louis says hoarsely.

“Thank you,” Zayn says.

Louis wipes his tears away. “Don't thank me for giving birth,” he rasps. “I didn't exactly have a choice.”

“Thank you for makin’ her, I mean,” Zayn says. His voice is entirely different, but familiar, like the Zayn he used to know.

The irony is dizzying to Louis -- that they're only here in the first place with a baby in their arms because he was trying to bring back the old Zayn, and here he is.

“I love her,” Zayn murmurs. “I was afraid it wouldn't come right away, I was afraid I'd look at her and I wouldn't feel anythin’.”

Louis smiles at him. “But she just feels like ours, doesn't she?”

“She does,” Zayn says reverently. “She looks like us…”

The baby begins to fuss again. The nurse brings a bottle in, which she takes a bit of before she begins to fuss some more.

“Might just be colicky,” the nurse says, shrugging.

Louis nods and begins to sing to her. She quiets down. Zayn joins in, and she stares at them with large, watchful eyes. She's got the shape of Zayn’s eyes, but Louis’ little nose.

“I'm going to go update our families,” Zayn says, after they've been sitting for a while. He slides off the bed. “I'll be back, yeah?”

“Send Liam in,” Louis calls. Fatigue is beginning to set in, and he wants Liam or his mum.

Zayn freezes in the doorway.

“I just gave birth to your baby without any drugs, Zayn,” Louis says tiredly. “Remember that before you answer.”

Zayn turns and nods stiffly. “I'll send him in,” he mutters.

Liam has since removed his sterile gown. He appears in the doorway with a wide smile.

Louis beams back at him. “Hi,” he says. “C’mere.”

Liam sidles up beside him on the bed. Louis hands him the baby immediately.

She's asleep now, soothed by all of the contact with Louis and having eaten. Liam stares at her with wonder in his eyes for a long time.

“I can't believe she's real,” he finally says. “She's so beautiful, Louis.”

Louis loves watching Liam look at her with the same love he looks at Louis with. This baby, this piece of him that came from him.

“I want you to be like another dad to ‘er,” Louis says, his voice hoarse and difficult to get out from the earlier screaming and his current deluge of emotions. “I want that. If you want it, I want it.”

Liam nods, his face red and his eyes bright. A muscle in his jaw flickers, and then tears begin to silently run down his face. He holds her closer. Louis gently reaches out and adjusts her so Liam’s supporting her head.

“I want it too,” Liam says, his own voice quite raw as well. “I already love her, I can't -- I can't help it. I loved her when she was inside you.”

Louis wipes his eyes, and then reaches out and wipes Liam's. “I don't remember the last time I cried this much in my stupid life,” he says, grinning.

Liam strokes her little cheeks with his big thumb. His face is one of absolute adoration. She stirs in her sleep and raises one little clenched fist slightly. Liam laughs at that, like it’s great comedy.

“She's so small,” he says, sounding thunderstruck over it. “It's terrifying. I feel like I want to wear her in a sling every minute of the day, protect her from all the danger.”

“That’d be great,” Louis says, laughing. His abdomen twinges in pain, and he winces. “Can you do that?”

“You alright?” Liam says, looking up from her in concern.

“Did they give me drugs?” Louis says. “I don't think they've kicked in all the way yet.”

Liam nods emphatically. “After she came out you sort of screamed ‘drugs’ in my face,” he says.

Louis is baffled. “I don't remember that at all!”

“You were really out of your mind from pain,” Liam says, looking at him with sympathy. “It’s probably best if you don’t remember much... it was a bit of a shitshow for a while, there. You, ah, barfed on my shoes, actually.”

“Sorry,” Louis tells him.

Liam gives him an amiable shrug and a smile. He hands Louis’ daughter back to him, and Louis experiences a great amount of relief at having her back in his arms. “I'll go get your mum?”

Louis nods firmly.

 

*

 

Jay is instantly in love with her, as he expected. She cries when she holds her for the first time, which gets Louis tearing up all over again. When they’ve all settled down, she and Lottie crowd around the baby like she's the Second Coming, cooing over how small she is and how she's got such dark hair and big eyes.

Louis is shocked at how attached to her he already is. He can hardly hand her off for feeling unmoored, restless and terribly anxious.

At one point, Louis is trying to get some sleep while a nurse checks on the baby as she dozes in the crib next to him. Zayn wanders back in the room smelling like he just went for a smoke and bends over to whisper to Louis that his legal are bothering him for a paternity test.

Louis feels sick to his stomach from the emotional whiplash, and weakly punches Zayn in the ribs.

“I’m _sorry_ , Louis,” Zayn says, wincing. “It's just for legal reasons! So I'm protected -- we might as well do it now, y’know? In hospital?”

“Right,” Louis snarls, hurt. “Fine, take her. Go stick our baby and make her bleed. Not like she looks exactly like you or anythin’.”

“That won't be necessary,” the nurse interrupts. “We can just swab her cheek. No pain involved.”

Louis looks at Zayn with flashing eyes. Zayn makes a complex expression of mixed annoyance and contrition.

Louis can't get back to sleep after this, so they sit around discussing names. Louis has a list of nice girl names that Zayn goes through and pencil-fucks entirely.

“We aren't namin’ her after _your_ mum,” Zayn mutters. “‘Less you want to go in for a combo, _Jaytrisha_ or summat…”

Louis rolls his eyes. “That's not the only name on the list.”

“I know, just saying. We're not naming her some fad name, either. How about something nice and Yorkshire?”

“What,” Louis says drily, “name her Olivia like every third girl in town?”

Louis settles back in bed. The pain meds are doing wonders for him, and he's a bit loopy, but he feels almost like his old self.

“I like Amelia,” Zayn murmurs.

Louis makes a face. “I've gone back on that since writing it down,” he says.

“It's funny, ‘cos like, I was thinkin’ about the name Mia last month,” Zayn says. “And it's a nickname for that.”

Louis looks at her, letting the idea settle over him. “Mia,” he says slowly. “I actually like that... People’d think we named her after M.I.A., though, wouldn’t they?”

“I hope not,” Zayn laughs. “But M.I.A.’s cool, like. So it works anyway.”

“Would you like a little more chest time with her, since you're not sleeping?” the nurse says quietly to him. He nods and she's placed back on him. She fusses a little at the change, then relaxes as he murmurs to her.

“Are you a Mia?” Louis says to her, running his finger over her tiny scrunched up fist. “Are you?”

“I think it’s nice,” Zayn says. “‘Cos I did want to pick from my family for the middle name, if you don't mind. Since you’re gettin’ the last name.”

Louis shakes his head. “I don't mind at all. I figured.”

Liam comes in while Zayn is listing off names of his female family members to see which ones they both like.

“Not to interrupt,” Liam says, clearing his throat, “but there's paps crawling all out front.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Great.”

“We’ll have people come in and out the back, but Mike says we ought to give them a little something, like Zayn out buying cigars, or whatever,” Liam says. “I mean, you've both got a lot of family out here, cigars would be a good idea.”

“Right, yeah, my parents and my sisters finally got here,” Zayn says to Louis. “Wasn't sure if you wanted them to come in.”

He nods. “No, they should come meet her,” he says, stifling a yawn.

“I can go pick up cigars,” Zayn says, getting up. “Shit, before I forget…”

He goes in his bag and pulls out a long slim package in a silver box. Then he realizes Louis has their baby in his arms and can't open it, so he takes the top off to reveal a gleaming pearly Rolex Yacht-Master.

“Sick,” Louis says appreciatively. “Push present?”

Zayn scoffs. “If you want to call it somethin’ that stupid, yeah.”

“Well, thanks, mate,” Louis says genuinely, and their eyes meet.

Liam watches all this from the doorway with a forcedly neutral expression.

“Go get cigars, go get papped,” Louis instructs Zayn, and then when he's gone beckons Liam over.

“So,” Louis says, as Liam fiddles with the baby's blanket and looks at her, smiling. “What do you think of Mia Yasmeen?”

“Um,” Liam says. “Is that an actress?”

“Mia Yasmeen Tomlinson, Payno,” Louis says, snapping his fingers. “Get with it.”

“Ohh!” Liam exclaims. “Oh, that's nice, Louis. I like that.”

“I think it suits her,” Louis says.

They look at Mia, who looks up at them, uncomprehending. Liam wraps his arm around Louis and tickles her little feet. After a nice family moment together, Mia begins to hiccup.

Louis starts laughing. “She did that inside me,” he says. “Remember? A couple weeks ago, she just kept hiccuping...”

Unsettled by the hiccups, she begins to fuss a little. Liam sings to her, and she quiets down again.

“You know,” Louis says, smiling, “she might recognize your voice, too. Since you’ve been around me so much.”

“Oh, shit, really?” Liam says softly, his eyes shining with happiness. “That’d be so cool. Wow.”

With the baby in his arms, Louis settles back against Liam’s broad chest, which is warm and comforting under his soft henley. Liam continues stroking his shoulder. Louis begins to doze off, and he feels Liam sit up and take Mia, get her down in the crib and then return and pull him close again.

 

*

 

When Louis wakes, it’s dark outside his window. Liam is sitting near his feet, tapping away on his laptop.

“Hey,” Liam says. “Sleep okay?”

“I guess,” Louis says. His throat is dry, and he’s in pain again. He clicks the button that gives him more Demerol and sits up on the bed. “Where is everyone?”

“Your family and Zayn’s are in the cafeteria,” Liam says, scratching his beard. “Jay asked if I wanted to join them, but Zayn’s whole family keeps looking at me with those -- you know how Zayn cuts his eyes at people? That, but all of them. So I figured I’d hang out with you and baby a bit.”

“Did they do anything with her?” Louis says, looking over at the baby, who’s sound asleep in the crib.

“Fed her again,” Liam says. “I helped with that, actually.”

Louis smiles fondly at him. “Were you any good at it?”

“I did alright,” Liam says, smiling back. “They took her footprints, too… said she’s got teeny feet, even for a baby. I think she takes after you.”

“Zayn’s got little feet, too,” Louis points out. “We’re a couple of Oompa Loompas. So Zayn got papped?”

“Yep, and the story’s out that you had the baby,” Liam says. He pulls up a window and hands Louis his laptop.

 

_No official confirmation has been given, but reports are surfacing that earlier today, Louis Tomlinson of One Direction welcomed a healthy baby girl at London's posh Portland Hospital._

 

 _A source said the maternity floor has been locked down by the singer's security, but the smoking gun is that baby daddy Zayn Malik was snapped wearing a hospital wristband and buying pink_ It's A Girl _cigars at a gift shop across the street._

 

Louis ignores the rest of it, which is all stupid speculation. He hands the laptop back. “How many texts do I have?”

“A shitload,” Liam tells him. “Gazillions, literally. From my phone I’ve been updating the boys, and your lads, and everyone else that’s actually important. They’re all excited to meet her.”

“I’m excited to go home,” Louis mutters, rubbing his forehead. “And take a shower. I ought to tweet, or something.”

“If you’d like,” Liam says with a shrug. “Twitter’s gone nuts since the news dropped, everyone's dying for a confirmation. Except for the Larries, who're... I don't know... larrying.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Louis says, his head lolling back on the pillows. “‘Blammo, here she is!’”

Liam laughs. “Something along those lines, Tommo.”

“It isn’t anyone’s business anyway, is it?”

Liam shakes his head emphatically. “Nope.”

 

*

 

Later that night, Zayn’s family comes in to meet the baby. Louis pretends to be asleep. He thinks it's just easier that way.

“She looks like you,” he hears one of Zayn’s sisters say to him softly. Zayn makes a noise of agreement.

Louis’ jaw tightens. _She looks like me, too,_ he wants to say, but doesn't.

 

LONDON, JANUARY 8, 2016

Together at the nurse’s station, he and Zayn sign her birth certificate and fill out a bunch of other paperwork. Louis, much to his annoyance, is confined to a wheelchair until he leaves the hospital.

“So we're sure on Mia Yasmeen,” Zayn says to him.

“Unless you aren't,” Louis says.

Zayn shakes his head. “Just makin’ sure.”

A nurse discreetly hands Zayn the results of the paternity test, which was overnighted. Zayn doesn't even glance at it before tucking the envelope into his jacket.

“Don't want to check?” Louis ribs him.

“No,” Zayn says tersely. “I told you, it's just for my legal team.”

Jay comes out with Mia in a carrier. Everyone else has left, but she, Liam and Zayn spent the night in the cushy waiting room so they didn't have to leave Louis. Oli has been flitting in and out throughout the morning, but otherwise Louis has successfully staved off all visits until he's had the chance to get home and make himself presentable.

Jay had scoffed at him for this and called him vain, but he'd insisted on it.

“I also don't need everyone I know going around poking their fingers in her face straight away,” Louis had pointed out. At this, Jay had relented.

Liam appears behind her, carrying some of the gifts that were sent to the hospital for him. Oli and Daniel have taken care of the rest.

“Hi there, wheels,” Liam says, grinning at Louis, who just sighs.

“Take me _home_ ,” Louis says emphatically.

“That's where we're headed,” Liam confirms.

Zayn glances between them. “Jay, could you give us a sec?” he says.

Liam's face drops a little. He sets what's in his arms down, and crosses them over his chest.

Jay looks at Louis in concern, but she nods and takes the baby down the hall into a waiting room.

“Will either of you need a cutman?” Louis chirps, already bored with whatever's about to happen. They both ignore him.

“So you're going to keep stayin’ with Louis,” Zayn says to Liam.

Liam shrugs. Louis can tell he's trying to remain calm, but his shoulders are squared up and his body is tight with tension. “He needs help. ‘Less you planned on living with him? Helping out full-time?”

“I can't,” Zayn snaps. “You know I can’t, you know I’ve got work obligations.”

“Then yeah, I'm living with him,” Liam says simply.

“What's your plan here, huh?” Zayn demands. “Want to play at bein’ DJ Stepdad?”

“I'm petitionin’ the court to give some Liam rights,” Louis cuts in. “Since he’ll be living with me.”

Zayn turns to him in complete and utter shock. “The _fuck_?” he demands.

“You heard me,” Louis says, staring him right in the eye.

Liam is looking at the floor with guilt and anger mixed on his face. His body language is becoming more closed-off and defensive, like he expects Zayn to try and hit him again.

Zayn’s dark eyes are two pits of betrayed reproach.

“Fuck you,” he spits at Liam. Liam winces at the vicious sound of it.

“Zayn,” Louis says patiently.

“Parental rights?” Zayn demands. “ _Him?_ To _our_ baby?”

“Sir, lower your voice,” a nurse calls from behind the desk.

“When do I even get to see her?” Zayn says. The rage is slipping a bit, and he looks truly devastated, now.

“Like I _said!_ Come over whenever you like! If you don't want Liam there -- fine!” Louis shouts. “For a while, we can ‘ave it so ‘e won't be there when you are! But y’know, it won't stay like that forever, man!”

“Louis,” Liam says soothingly, stepping forward. Zayn gets into Liam’s space and glares daggers at him, but Liam refuses to be cowed. He and Zayn’s chests brush; they stand hard at each other, two alphas who have thoroughly disrespected each other's boundaries.

“We can talk later,” Liam says, his voice low and rocky. “Louis shouldn't be riled right now.”

“ _We_?” Zayn snaps. “Who's we, Liam?”

“The three of us,” Liam says. “Remember that there's a baby at stake, here. Remember that, Zayn.”

He positively spits the last part. Louis has hardly ever seen him like this. He's all bared teeth and hard muscle. In this moment, there's no trace whatsoever of the goofy, sweet Liam who cried buckets a few months ago when a sparrow hit his windshield.

“Zayn,” Louis interrupts.

Zayn looks over at him, his face red and twisted with anger, his chest heaving.

“I'll call you,” Louis says emphatically. “I will. Come see her any time you like, as soon as you like. Just leave this, right now. It's not the time.”

Zayn nods, seeming to soften at Louis’ voice, and from looking at Louis, who's worn-down looking from being woken throughout the night by the baby. He gazes at Zayn, plaintive, silently begging him not to make this harder, not right now.

“I'm goin’,” Zayn snaps. “I need air."

“Good, get some,” Louis tells him.

Zayn pushes past Liam hard on his way out. 

“Hey," Louis shouts at his departing back. "Not fuckin' necessary, man! And you ever punch him again, I’ll have your bollocks hangin’ in a butcher’s window, you hear me?”

Zayn gives him an unpleasant look over his shoulder.

“I'll see you in court,” he tosses out to Liam as he walks away. " _Mate._ "

Louis and Liam are left alone in the silence he's created. Louis seeks out eye contact with him, but is rebuffed; Liam looks away, his face pale and queasy, clenching his teeth together.

Jay comes out after a moment.

“Well, that sounded awful,” she says, looking stricken.

“I just want my baby,” Louis says tiredly.

Jay nods and sets the carrier down so she can deposit Mia into his arms. Mia fusses.

“Liam…” Louis says, and looks up at him, beseeching.

Liam seems depleted of most of his usual warmth and good cheer, but he comes over and crouches in front of Louis. He looks at Mia and strokes her head, his expression a little wan and lost.

“It’s oka-ay,” he sings to her, or maybe to himself.


	21. Chapter 21

LONDON, JANUARY 14, 2016

A steady flow of people traipse in and out of the house during their first week home. They keep cheese plates out at all times, and an exhausted Liam and Louis survive on deliveries of Jay’s cooking and restaurant takeout, as Louis has just impulsively fired his personal chef on charges of smoking in the house.

The best visitors are all of Louis’ lads, who are unequivocally thrilled by the baby and bring her great gifts like toddler-sized footballs and a jersey-style onesie with TOMLINSON on the back and a 7 for the number.

“Seven ‘cos she was born on the seventh, and like, lucky seven,” Calvin explains, to Louis’ delight.

The worst visitor is Harry, who tags along with Niall. When he sees Mia, he’s at first very enamored of her, being the baby lover that he is. He coos at her and tickles her feet and grins broadly at her.

It all goes south when Louis encourages him to hold her. He picks her up, gets a good look at her, quietly says, “Wow, she looks quite a bit like Zayn,” then proceeds to go very quiet for the rest of the visit. After that, he's a lost cause; at one point he just wanders about like a vaguely unpleasant ghost, rearranging Louis’ knick-knacks, while Liam, Louis and Niall chatter animatedly about sports and when they’ll get around to a lads holiday.

“He’ll come around,” Niall whispers in Louis’ ear, when they’re leaving and he goes to hug him.

“I know,” Louis says softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s just, y’know, t' Zayn thing,” Niall says, and draws back to make an apologetic, helpless gesture. “He --”

“I know, lad, I know, I don’t take it personally --”

“Niall! Are we leaving?” Harry demands quite loudly from the foyer. “Congratulations again, Louis…”

“Cheers, mate,” Louis calls back, and is met with silence. He and Liam look at each other and exchange a shrug.

Perrie is one of his better visitors. She’s barely in the door before she hands him a massive handle of very expensive alcohol and whispers, “For when you an’ Liam get some time away for a date night, yeah?”

She brought Jade along with her, and they’re sitting in the living room holding hands and practically sat in each other's laps before he realizes there’s something going on.

“Wait, are you two, like, together now?” Liam blurts out, before Louis can bring it up.

They look at each other and start giggling awkwardly. Jade goes a bit pink in the ears.

“So _that’s_ why you’ve been so laid-back lately, Pez,” Louis crows.

“It’s sort of a secret, still,” Perrie says, squeezing Jade’s hand.

“I wasn’t even sure, since you lot hold hands all the time anyway,” Louis says.

“That’s true,” Jade admits with a sly smile.

They leave Jade and Liam alone to talk so Perrie can meet the baby, who’s dozing upstairs.

Perrie stretches a hand out and trails it along her back. She makes a soft noise in her sleep, and one of her little fists curls tighter.

“She’s _teeny_ ,” Perrie says in awe.

“She is,” Louis agrees, leaning on the crib. He loves watching her sleep.

“Has she been good so far?”

“She’s an angel,” Louis says warmly. “I mean, she’s a baby, y’know, but… better’n most, I’d say. Doesn’t even cry much for a newborn. She’s a trouper.”

“She gets it from her daddy,” Perrie says, poking Louis gently in the ribs. He laughs diffidently.

She sighs. “She really, really looks like Zayn… Looks a lot like you, too, don’t get me wrong, but you can so tell she’s his, y’know?”

“I know,” Louis says, his throat tightening. “I’m sorry, Pez.”

“Don’t be sorry!” she exclaims. “God, I’m not made of ceramic.”

“Well, Harry might be, then.”

“Oh, did he get pouty?” Perrie says. She reaches down and strokes Mia’s head. Some of her dark hair has fallen out over the past week, and she’s rubbed a bald spot on the back from being in the carrier. Liam was very worried by this, until Louis let him know it’s perfectly normal.

“Not pouty, like,” Louis mutters, glancing down to examine his nails. “Just… well, he and I have been having problems for ages, so it’s to be expected.”

Perrie nods. “You’ve got a lot of tough history,” she says sympathetically. “Might take being out of the public eye for a while for you to mend fences.”

Louis clears his throat, not wanting to go in-depth on his issues with Harry. “Aye, probably. And he’s still working through some shit about this whole thing. Which is weird, ‘cos he’s so withdrawn about everythin’ that until he found out I'd got pregnant, I assumed he got over Zayn ages ago.”

“Oh,” Perrie says, and clucks her tongue. “Some people deal with things differently. As far as I know, Harry didn’t really get, like, closure. With me an’ Zayn, I feel like our thing played out exactly as it meant to, and like I dodged a bit of a bullet in the end -- Jesus, no offense. That must’ve sounded awful --”

“I get it,” Louis interrupts her. “I properly get it. Look, there’s a reason he and I didn’t even try and make a go of it.”

“Yeah, you’re smarter’n me,” Perrie jokes, her blonde ponytail swinging as she tickles a cooing Mia. “No, I’m sorry, I’m being an arse. How’s he been, lately?”

Louis sighs and turns around from the crib. He runs his hand over his stomach. The uterine swelling has only just started to really go down, and he’s still got a bit of a phantom baby bump. “He’s been around,” he says, somewhat cagily. “He and Liam had another row after she was born, right in my face --”

“Of course they did,” Perrie says, rolling her eyes. “‘Cos that was what you needed to be dealing with, right then.”

“I just want Liam very much in her life,” Louis says. “And Zayn hates it. But Liam… he’s reliable, y’know?”

“Totally get it,” Perrie says, waving a hand. “You haven’t got to justify it to me. So he’s been around since?”

“He’s come over…” Louis thinks about it. “Twice. Shit, yeah, I guess just twice since we got back. He says he’s busy with the record. He sits and sort of just visits with her, and I try to give him some space so they can bond. He likes to sing to her. We haven’t started schedulin’ visits yet, I’ve just been trying to settle in.”

“At some point things’ll have to be scheduled, and agreed upon,” Perrie says, “and that’s where he tends to fall off. Zayn, he… he writes checks he’s too scared to cash, sometimes. You know?”

Louis nods. “I know,” he says softly. “I’m trying not to think like that. I dunno.”

Perrie wraps an arm around him and rubs his shoulders. “You’ve got a good man here, and a beautiful baby,” she says. “Remember that, ‘cos it’s worth quite a lot.”

 

*

 

Liam won’t let Mia co-sleep with them at night, as he’s much too afraid of them rolling over and crushing her, but he’s been willing to nap in their bed with her as long as Louis promises to stay awake.

When Perrie and Jade leave, they spend another happy afternoon like this, with Liam facedown and fast asleep, one arm wrapped around Louis’ waist as Louis lies with Mia against his chest and dozes in and out of a catnap.

The sun begins to go down, and the room glows with orange light. Louis wakes fully and lies there, switching his loving gaze back and forth between Liam and his daughter. Liam is drooling a bit on the bed, which he finds endearing. Louis reaches out and trails a finger over his face, his long lashes and his snub nose. Then he pokes him in the cheek.

Liam stirs. “Hey,” he mumbles.

“Hi,” Louis says sweetly. “I love you, Payno.”

“I love you, too,” Liam says, in a cute half-asleep voice. “You’re my favorite.”

“Besides Mia?” Louis says, looking down at her peaceful sleeping face.

“Besides Mia,” Liam agrees, patting him on the side. “She’s my other favorite.”

Mia wriggles in his arms a bit, then gives him one of those little reflex smiles that newborns get. Louis’ heart squeezes in his chest. He wonders what her real smile will look like.


	22. Chapter 22

LONDON, FEBRUARY 21, 2016

 “Jesus Christ,” Louis hisses as he frantically rocks a wailing Mia. “Where _is_ he?”

“I just got his voicemail for a third time,” Liam says wearily, and he drops onto the living room couch, collapsing in a grim picture of total exhaustion. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his hand, his phone hanging limply from the other. “And it’s been hours, it’s fucking midnight. Safe to say he’s not coming tonight.”

“Mia, _please,_ ” Louis begs her, but her cries only grow louder at the tense sound of his voice. “Please stop colicking, holy fuck --”

“The doctor said she’s fine, right?” Liam says, lowering his hand and looking at Louis. He looks as worn down as Louis feels.

“Yes,” Louis says in exasperation, “she’s perfectly fuckin’ fine!”

“Stop shouting right in her ear,” Liam admonishes, giving him a hard look. He reaches his arms out stiffly, like a zombie. “Let me take her, alright?”

With great relief, Louis hands her off. Liam sets her on his knee and bounces her with his leg, and this actually stops her wailing for a moment.

“Put the vacuum on,” Louis says, staggering blearily forward and picking up a pillow. “She likes the vacuum.”

“Where’re you going?” Liam calls, as Louis takes the pillow and wanders away toward the kitchen. Louis doesn’t answer, he just keeps walking, then falls to his knees on the kitchen parquet with the pillow under his face and screams into it at the top of his lungs.

He doesn’t realize how long he does this for until he hears footsteps behind him, and Liam’s worried voice saying, “Love?”

Louis sits up and turns. His face is streaked with tears, and his throat feels raw and ragged.

“I’m okay,” he rasps.

Liam kneels beside him and then sits criss-cross applesauce. Mia has quieted down, and looks to Louis with those large, curious eyes of hers.

“Hi there,” he says, holding his hands out. Liam passes her over. “Hi, Mimi.” He bounces her gently.

Liam reaches out and puts a reassuring hand on Louis’ knee. “It’ll get easier,” he says.

Louis sighs. “It isn’t her, it’s Zayn,” he murmurs. “This is the _third_ time this month he’s stood us up to actually take her. Doesn’t even call this time.”

“We’ve got court soon,” Liam says. He sounds determined about it in a sort of desperate, slipping way, like he's saying it more for his own benefit than Louis’. “He’ll find out. Y’know? That he can’t get away with this and be in her life.”

Mia moves one of her little fists to her mouth and jams it partway in. Louis removes it for her, and she gets fussy again.

“Alright, vacuum time for Bonzo,” Louis says, standing up and hoisting her onto his hip. Liam stands too, and they lean on each other as they return to the living room.

 

LONDON, FEBRUARY 22, 2016

Zayn calls at two A.M.

“Louis,” he says, sounding drunk. “I'm so sorry.”

Half-asleep and with great displeasure, Louis gets up and takes the phone into the bathroom. 

“Sorry doesn't cut it,” Louis snaps at him, his voice fuzzy and crackly from being woken. “Sorry ain't good enough. You are _officially_ fuckin’ this up!”

“I'm just scared,” Zayn slurs, “I'm scared to take her overnight, still, it's too much --”

“You _wanted_ that!” Louis shouts at him. “You wanted weekends! You haven’t taken a single one yet!”

“I know what I _wanted_! Like -- we haven't really bonded, she's so colicky now, she'll cry all night and I won't be able to soothe ‘er --” 

“You'd be more bonded to her if you’d come visit more often,” Louis points out, his voice harsh. “Zayn, I can't do this. I can't have this conversation right now. I need to sleep. Just… go to bed, yeah?”

“I can't,” Zayn cries out. “I need to make this up to you!”

“Be better!” Louis yells. “Try harder! Jesus! Did you go _out_ tonight?”

“I _had_ to, it's people from my new label, they insisted! I need them to like me, I dunno how the record’s going to do, yet, Louis, fuck --”

“Well, if you had to, then,” Louis spits. He's positively vibrating with rage, here in the quiet darkness of the bathroom.

“Louis, please, I only meant to have one drink, it got away from me, they took my phone --”

“Great blokes. It's not like people don't know you just became a dad, Zayn!”

“I know,” Zayn moans.

“Perfectly valid reason to beg off!”

“I've just got so much going on, it'll calm down by April --”

“I'm not waiting ‘til April,” Louis says, now terrifyingly calm. “Neither is your daughter.”

“Please, Louis, I love her, I do, it's just it's a lot, I love her --”

“Pray you can prove that in court next Wednesday,” Louis snaps. “Otherwise weekends are off the table, and you'll have to earn ‘em back.”

Zayn is quiet. “You'd take full custody?” he says, disbelieving. “You wouldn't.”

“Mate,” Louis says curtly, “it sort of looks to me like I already have it, whether I want it or not.”

He hangs up the phone and gives himself a moment to get composed. His breath is shaky from rage. Louis looks in the mirror and hates what he sees; a pathetic figure, a sad, petty, bitter young man, hanging onto ten pounds of baby weight, hanging onto a bill of goods he was sold by a man he should have known better than to believe. He rues the day he ever let Zayn make him into this person.

Louis puts his phone into airplane mode and returns to the bedroom.

 

*

 

In the morning, Louis wakes to a blessed lack of squalling. He can hear the dryer softly thumping down the hall, by which he deduces that the housekeeper must be here -- ergo, it’s after seven.

He turns to Liam, who is dozing lightly with Mia on his chest. He gently shakes Liam’s arm.

Liam stirs. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Morning…”

“When did you get her out of the crib?” Louis whispers, stroking her back. She snuffles and makes a little hiccupy sound.

“Ah…” Liam squints blearily at his watch. “Like a half hour ago? I got up, fed and changed her.”

“So she slept through that _whole_ five hours?” Louis says, grinning with dizzied glee.

“She did,” Liam confirms happily.

“Thank _God_ ,” Louis exclaims. “It’s been ages since she even went down for more’n two.”

“A couple weeks, at least...”

Liam lets his head rest back against the pillows, his eyes closing again. He reaches up and puts a hand on Mia’s back, holding her steady.

Louis loves the sight of them together. He loves how gentle and calm Liam is with her, and how well she’s bonded to him already. The pale London sunrise is streaming from the balcony transom and lighting up both of them; setting a warm glow to Mia’s dark hair and her sweet little face, and Liam’s handsome features, thick eyebrows and dark eyelashes.

Louis gets out of his phone and takes a few photos. He’s already got a thousand or so photos of her, and he and Jay have each posted several to Instagram already. He finds, though, that it’s never quite enough. He always wants more, especially her with Liam.

This morning’s shots come out perfectly in the golden light of dawn.

“Ha ha,” Louis chirps to himself, pleased. “I ought to be a photographer or summat.”

“I wouldn’t quit your day job, love,” Liam murmurs, with a teasing smile.

“What day job, anymore?” Louis points out. Liam snorts.

He takes his favorite shot into the VSCO app and turns it black and white. He’s utterly in love with the final product; he can’t stop staring at it.

“Can I post this?” Louis says softly, knowing the answer ought to be, and probably will be, a firm _no._ They’ve been very careful so far about not letting on that they’re together, out of a desire to keep harmony with Zayn and protect Mia.

Liam is still. It almost seems like he hasn’t heard Louis, until he finally glances up, gives him a doe-eyed look and says, “Up to you, Tommo.”

Louis is filled with adrenaline, then, and a singular resolve that drives him forward in spite of the fear gnawing at his gut.

He opens up Instagram and uploads the photo, then types out _Daddy direction x_ in the caption. It’s just ambiguous enough to drive speculation and make Zayn angry, but not quite enough of a confirmation for management to climb up his arse over it.

Louis’ thumb hovers over the post button for a few seconds, and then in a flash of impulse he hits it.

“Well,” he says, anticlimactically.

“That’s bound to get people talking,” Liam says, stolid as ever, and he kisses Mia on the top of her head. Louis can tell that he's doing his best to hide how thrilled and vindicated he is at being publicly identified as one of her daddies, which only serves to make Louis more confident in his decision.

The comments begin to flood in by the thousand. _Holy shit_ and _wait what?????_ and _lmao what is 1d even doing anymore_ and _DAMN_ and _Louis please follow me_ and _Louis its too early for this shit_ and _This is such a sweet pic aw_ and _OMFG SOMEONE PLS FILL ME IN_ and _Please look at my IG, just posted a new makeup tutorial for spring!_ and _KING TOMMO ALWAYS OUT HERE DOING THE MOST_ and _wow. does zaddy know about this shit?_

Louis tosses his phone aside.

“Good,” he says firmly, and cuddles up next to his man. “Let them talk.”

 

*

 

_New couple alert?_

 

_One Direction’s Louis Tomlinson may be in a relationship with bandmate Liam Payne, according to speculation that arose today after Tomlinson posted to Instagram a sweet snap of his newborn daughter Mia Yasmeen Tomlinson taking a snooze with Payne._

 

_Mia was born in January to Tomlinson and his former bandmate Zayn Malik. The two are not together. Tomlinson famously spent most of his pregnancy finishing out the band’s On The Road Again tour, after Malik left the band in April to pursue a solo career._

 

_Louis’ Instagram is innocent enough, but the caption ‘Daddy direction x’ has sent fans into a frenzy over the idea that the two boybanders might be together. ‘Daddy Direction’ was once Payne’s nickname within the band, but here it seems to point to Payne having a ‘daddy’ role in little Mia’s life._

 

_Further fueling the fire is the fact that the Instagram was posted early this morning, and appears to have been taken in bed._

 

_If Payne and Tomlinson have coupled up, it could mean a hard road ahead for new fathers Tomlinson and Malik, who had a very public spat on Twitter last June - allegedly before Malik was aware of the pregnancy. Rumors have also been circling for months that Malik and Payne have had a serious falling out recently, and after this new snap, many are now wondering if baby daddy drama is the cause._

 

_In a recent interview with British music mag The Wire, Zayn was said to appear tense when asked about his relationship with his former bandmates and said, “Louis and I talk, obviously, as we’ve just had a baby. Liam and I were talking for a while… We aren’t now. I don’t want to get into that. I’m not in contact with anyone else, so.”_

 

_Representatives for the band have not yet responded to People’s requests for comment on this story._

 

*

 

Liam retweets the link to the Instagram with his own addition of two hearts, and the Internet blows up all over again, seemingly taking this as an ironclad confirmation that all their hysteria and _DIRECTIONER DADDY DRAMA!_ headlines have not been misplaced.

They get three quickly successive phone calls. The first is from Mike Navarra, suggesting they make the Brits their first outing as a couple and present an award together.

“Bit short notice,” Liam says, surprised.

“Well, if you want to go, we'd like you there,” Mike says. “No pressure.”

Louis complains that he's feeling too fat for a red carpet; Liam looks at him like he's lost his mind and argues with him about how he actually looks for more than half an hour. Louis finally gets him to understand that it's more about how he _feels_. They agree to put off deciding til tomorrow.

Simon phones next, comments passive-aggressively that Louis is certainly doing a good job of staying in the public eye, and invites them out to a double date dinner with him and Lauren. They hesitantly accept.

“You know what?” Liam says after, when they're working to puzzle out what inspired Simon to ring them. “I bet he empathizes with me a bit, being that he's a homewrecker himself.”

He raises his eyebrows at Louis, waiting for him to agree.

“Stop callin’ yourself a homewrecker,” Louis admonishes him.

“But you see what I mean, Tommo.”

“It makes sense,” Louis admits. “I just hope he doesn't bring that comparison up at dinner, for Christ’s sake.”

Zayn calls next, and Louis takes it out on the patio, far away from Liam.

“You did that to hurt me,” Zayn accuses, by way of a hello.

“No,” Louis says, a familiar dismay gripping his chest. “No, mate, I didn't.”

“You're angry at me, an’ you knew exactly what would hurt me the most. D’you know how many texts I've gotten today? How many people have asked me why the fuck I'm lettin’ Liam cuck me?”

“Wouldn't be cuckin’ you, would it?” Louis says, chilly. “Since, for the fortieth time, you and I aren't together!”

“Aye, and whose fault is that?”

“Look -- you've made it properly clear your record is more important than your baby, so why don't you just leave us the fuck alone?”

“This is so rich,” Zayn spits. “You wouldn't even leave your fuckin’ world tour or your _boyfriend_ or stop work on _your_ fuckin’ record to come be with me -- not even to be together, but just to let me take care of you while you were pregnant, and you ran yourself so down to the fuckin’ ground that our baby's born early and underweight because of it --”

“She was a perfectly acceptable weight!” Louis rages. “She’s perfectly healthy! I was under a doctor’s care, I’d never endanger her, how fuckin’ _dare_ you!”

“You're angry ‘cos you know I'm right,” Zayn snarls. “And I've been over to see her twice a week, even more, I've just said I haven't been able to commit to ‘avin’ ‘er for an entire weekend! I’m workin’ my arse off, solo work is actually sort of demanding, not that you'd know --”

“Oi, get fucked,” Louis hollers, his accent at its thickest. “You could push your release back, and we both know it. You just promise you'll take ‘er because you like the idea, and then it actually rolls around and you remember, _shit! I don't want to change diapers and wake up every two hours, I want to fuck Gigi and stay out all night doin’ dabs with my mates_ \--”

“It's terrifyin’, Louis!” Zayn screams at him. “It's my daughter! I've never had a baby alone like that before, I've just babysat, I don't have help like you do, I haven't got a _Liam_ \--”

“You've got a Gigi!”

“I _haven't_ ,” Zayn bursts out. “I haven't got her for the long haul! We have _fun_ together, she's my date for shit, I can't ask her to help me take care of a fuckin’ baby! I'm scared enough as it is now of losin’ her ‘cos the fuckin’ tabloids are gonna run with this fuckin’ you, me and Liam triangle and milk it for all it’s fuckin’ worth, and she's already uncomfortable with the baby thing and how I talk about you --”

Louis is shocked by the honesty that's suddenly pouring out, the things he's suspected but never been let in on and didn't have any reason to think he ever would be.

“Zayn,” he says, softer. “I didn't know that.”

“Yeah, well,” Zayn says, his voice hoarse. “Whatever, Louis. I'll see you in court. I clearly need a third party to make my case to you, ‘cos I'm fuckin’ lost in the woods, here.”

Louis opens his mouth to speak, but it's one of the few times in his life he finds himself speechless. Zayn hangs up on him.

 

LONDON, FEBRUARY 24, 2016

After much discussion and airing of their mutual reluctance, Liam and Louis leave Mia with Jay and go to the Brits.

It's torture to leave her. Liam's left during the day a few times to do producer work in the city, but Louis hasn't been without her yet, except to pop down to the shops. It's fine at first, and then they get to the car and a terrible feeling like drowning engulfs him.

“I miss my baby,” he says miserably.

Liam laughs and squeezes his hand. “We've only just left her, lad.”

Louis gives him a waspish look. “I miss her anyway!”

“Me too,” Liam admits.

After a moment of consideration, Louis holds up a finger and bolts out of the Range Rover.

“ _Lo-ouis_ ,” Liam calls in annoyance out the open door. Paddy groans from the front seat.

“I'll be right back!” Louis yells.

He runs back into the house, startling Jay, who's reading on the couch with Mia lying next to her.

“Louis!” she says in exasperation. “Get to the damn awards, will you!”

“Can't I just bring her along?” Louis says, scooping Mia up and cradling her. She makes a little coo. He kisses her nose.

“Louis, I know it's very hard to leave her,” Jay says patiently, shutting her book. “But it's healthy for you to spend some time away, living your life.”

She pries Mia out of Louis’ arms. Mia begins to fuss in response, which hurts him to hear.

“Fine,” he yells, clearing his throat and very slowly heading toward the foyer. “I'll choose to believe you're right about this, possibly.”

“I _am_ right! Louis, I’ve got seven children, for Christ’s sake!”

“Bye mum!” he yells as he pushes the front door open. “Bye baby! Going to go be sad at the Brits, now!”

“Get _out_ of here!” Jay shouts back fondly.

 

*

 

The red carpet isn’t as traumatic as Louis expected. Zayn is a blacklisted topic for them, which gets a bit awkward when interviewers try to ask him about the baby without acknowledging her other father.

“So are you -- are you and -- um, so the baby’s well?” one woman with the Mirror says, practically fumbling her microphone.

They stick to the 2017 hiatus soundbite, though the four of them have privately agreed that 2018 might be a more reasonable estimate.

Liam gets a bit tipsy and becomes grabby with Louis. For the most part, Louis allows him; he knows Liam is a soppy romantic type who likes to dote on whoever he’s dating, and it’s been tormenting him terribly to have to pretend Louis isn’t his for all this time. He loves being Liam’s, he loves being touched by him and shown off by him, and he desperately wants everyone to know Liam is his as well.

But at certain points throughout the night, he very subtly stifles Liam’s grasping hands. Zayn will see photos and video from tonight, he knows. Other people will as well. He’s painfully aware of some of the nasty comments that have already been made and all that are yet to come: the vapid slutty boybander who busted up an engagement, who fucked his way through half his band, who’s got a month old baby by one of them at home and is out gallivanting with his new one on the red carpet. He sees judgment in the eyes of all the interviewers, whether it’s there or not. He continually imagines Mia googling for video from this night, ten or so years down the road.

“You two seem quite happy together,” one interviewer comments. “You've known each other and worked together for so long -- was it a surprise when a relationship developed?”

Liam wraps an arm around Louis’ shoulders. “Historically, neither of us is too quick-minded on things like that,” he admits. Louis grins.

“But you write these fantastic ballads together! You’ve got to be hopeless romantics at heart, right?”

“Aye,” Louis agrees, squinting into the bright lights and leaning into Liam’s warm, broad chest. “But, y’know, when you already make such a great team, you don't always want to change things up. And timing counts for a lot… life can be a bit complicated, that way. Sometimes you’ve just got to take the risk, though. Big risks have been paying off for us for a while as a band, against all the odds and against the conventional wisdom, so I think we’re both a bit more comfortable now about, y’know...” Louis looks to Liam. “Followin’ our hearts, like.”

Liam gazes at him, besotted. Louis can’t help but grin back. For a moment they're in their own little world, and then another question comes.

 

*

 

They get home late. Liam staggers in, still tipsy, hanging off of Louis. Louis sits him down in the kitchen and fetches him a cool glass of water.

“Ah, you’re aces, Tommo,” Liam says appreciatively, pressing the glass to his forehead.

“No, _drink_ it,” Louis instructs him.

“Right, right.”

Louis leaves him to find Jay still in the living room. Mia is fast asleep next to her.

“How was she?” he asks, coming over and kneeling in front of the couch so he can blow raspberries on her tummy. A snap on her onesie’s come undone, so he fixes it.

“An angel,” Jay tells him happily.

Louis has been ruminating on something for the better part of the day -- in the darkness and comfort of his home, he feels as though he can finally give voice to it. “Mum,” he says.

“Yes, love.”

Louis watches Mia as she kicks her little legs and stares up at him, her unfocused newborn eyes searching without landing.

“You said to me once that when the baby came, Zayn and I would quit with these stupid games,” he murmurs. “But we haven’t, have we?”

Jay shakes her head. “I was off on that estimate,” she says. “It _will_ get better, alright?”

“Alright,” Louis says wearily. He strokes Mia’s head.

“It'll always be hard in some ways, Louis.”

“I know,” he says. “I know.”


	23. Chapter 23

LONDON, FEBRUARY 25, 2016

“It’s my understanding that in the hearing of this case, my judgment is being requested due to an inability of the two parties to arbitrate amongst themselves, is this correct?” says Judge Hawthorne, peering over his glasses.

“Yes, Your Lordship,” says Simon Hughes, Louis’ barrister, as he stands and buttons his jacket. “Our attempts to procure a Parental Responsibility Agreement providing certain legal rights to Mr Liam Payne, who sits behind me as a guest of the court -- these attempts have been blocked by Mr Malik’s legal team, who are insisting that Mr Payne does not have long-standing enough a relationship with the child or with Mr Tomlinson to justify such an application.”

“Right,” the judge says, sounding bored and glancing over the documents in front of him. “And I see that in exchange, your team has filed a motion to award full custody of the child to Mr Tomlinson.”

Louis sits to the left of Simon, gently rocking Mia, who has been very good thus far. He didn’t want to drag her along to this circus, but Simon insisted on it, for the optics.

“Well,” Simon says, clearing his throat. “Mr Tomlinson has stated that he doesn’t necessarily desire to seek full custody. He would like for Mr Malik to have a relationship with their child, but Mr Malik’s attempts at doing so have been objectively lackluster so far…”

Over at the other table, Zayn scoffs derisively.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Judge Hawthorne says, looking to him.

“Nothin’,” Zayn mutters.

“Young man, you will stand when you address this court, and use the honorific.”

Zayn stands. “Sorry, Your Lordship. I didn’t say nothin’. Just coughed.”

This is the first time since they filed into the courtroom that Louis has been really able to look at him. He looks depleted and wan, and there’s a biting anger under his attempt at composure.

“Fine. Be seated.”

“Your Lordship,” Simon continues, “our filing for full custody is more of a way to encourage Mr Malik and his team to see the gravity of the situation, and drop the fight against the Parental Responsibility Agreement.”

“I do get the general gist,” Hawthorne says. “I’d like to hear from Mr Malik’s team, and then statements from both of the parents.”

Louis glances behind him at Liam, who looks painfully young in his nice suit and is gnawing at his thumbnail in worry. He looks back at Louis and flashes him an encouraging smile.

“Your Lordship,” says the smarmier-looking of Zayn’s barristers as he stands up. “My client, the proven biological father of Mia Tomlinson, has been stymied from the start by Mr Tomlinson and Mr Payne in his attempts to develop a bond with his baby. From the time Mr Tomlinson announced his pregnancy to my client and onward, he has acted in hostility toward Mr Malik and his attempts to know or provide for his child. He has denied Mr Malik’s presence in favor of allowing Mr Payne to usurp his place as a de facto father to this child, due to Tomlinson’s affair with the latter. Which, the court will note, has only been going on for six months, has produced no engagement and could reasonably be understood to end at any time.”

Louis has known that if this matter had to go to court, things would be said that would hurt him. He was thoroughly warned by everyone that would be the case, and still, this testimony brings up bile up in his throat.

Mia fists her little hand in his shirt and coos. Louis takes a deep breath, trying to let his anger leave him peacefully. He kisses her head.

“Mr Malik has made it known to Mr Tomlinson that the baby’s birth came at a very busy time for him professionally, and Mr Malik has been frantically attempting to rearrange his life, prepare his place of residence, and seek out advice on childcare so that he can responsibly take his daughter into his home, over weekends as the parents had previously agreed upon. Mr Tomlinson has expressed a great deal of impatience over Mr Malik’s inability to instantly upend his life, and continues his attempts to squeeze Mr Malik out in order to make room in Mia’s life for Mr Payne. This is exemplified by the motion for a Parental Responsibility Agreement, which would conveniently give Mr Payne all the rights of a guardian without him even needing to actually marry Mr Tomlinson. For these reasons, we ask the court to deny the application and reconsider it at a later date.”

The barrister tosses his pen down, as if he’s capping off his comments. Judge Hawthorne studies him and then nods.

“Fine,” he says. “Thank you, Mr Brier. The court will now hear from Mr Tomlinson.”

Louis heart begins to pound. He turns and hands Mia off to Liam, who settles down on the bench with her and pulls a dummy from his suit pocket, since she’s starting to fuss.

“Ah,” Louis says, pressing his hands down on the table to steady himself. He’s found himself a bit mentally foggy lately, both from lack of sleep and what his parenting books refer to as mommy brain. Louis looks up, focusing on the judge, ignoring Zayn’s face in his peripheral vision.

“I’ve wanted Zayn to have a part in this baby’s life,” he begins. “I left the door open for him to visit me when I was on tour, which he did, and I appreciated. He and I have had a difficult relationship since he abruptly left our band, but I’ve done my best…”

Louis feels his voice wavering, and he powers forward.

“No, sorry, I haven’t ‘done my best’,” he corrects himself, feeling more confident. “I _have_ given him a place in our baby’s life. As far as custody goes, I told him that to start with, he could have weekends with her entirely to himself, an’ then we’d go from there. He had months and months to prepare for her bein’ born. He’s never brought up preparing his house as an issue... But he tends to leave things out like that.”

He reminds himself again to keep his tone even and light.

“I’ve been concerned for a while by his erratic behavior,” he continues. “In his personal life, Zayn doesn’t quite seem to know what he wants, as evidenced by, y’know, suddenly ended friendships, his suddenly ended engagement, and how he’s ran hot and cold toward me since he left the band.”

The judge nods, like he has some knowledge of this. Louis wonders if Zayn’s nasty tweets to Shahid are in that pile of documents his solicitors provided -- or his tweets toward Louis, or tabloid articles about his breakup with Perrie and his cheating.

“He’s been aggressive and hostile toward Liam, who’s known me for as long as Zayn has and’s been a large part of my life for the last half-year,” Louis says, and tries to compose himself a little, as he hears his tone getting hard. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Zayn drumming his fingers on the table.

“Liam’s been great to me,” he continues. “Extremely supportive, considering Mia’s not his biological child. He’s been very consistent in his affections and his treatment of me, he and I are very close and committed to each other, and he wants what’s best for me and my daughter. It’s only right for him to have parental rights to her, as he’s been actin’ as her parent ever since she was born, and before that. And to the comments that Liam and I aren’t engaged, we’d eventually like to be, and it’s something we discuss regularly. In addition…”

Louis looks down at the table, his mouth going dry. As far as Zayn’s concerned, this next bit is going to go down like a lead balloon. He’s a bit afraid, but spite and righteous indignation drive him forward.

“Liam had actually already proposed to me, when he first found out I was keeping the baby,” he says. “Back in June, before we got together.”

The judge sits up with renewed interest.

“ _What_?” Zayn shouts, leaping to his feet. His legal team shush him and try to push him back down, but his handsome face is dark with anger and his eyes are fixed on Liam across the aisle. “What the _fuck?_ How fuckin’ _dare_ you! God! Couldn’t fuckin’ wait before _I_ even knew?”

The judge bangs his gavel. “I will have you dragged out of here in contempt of court, Mr Malik! Be seated!”

Louis turns to Liam, who looks horribly guilty and chagrined. He looks up at Louis with large, apologetic eyes. Mia squirms in his arms.

“Zayn, I’m sorry,” he says softly.

Zayn shakes his head in disgust. His team manages to get him back in his seat.

“There’s that hostility,” Louis says unpleasantly. Simon nudges him and shakes his head.

“Mr Tomlinson, please,” the judge says.

“Sorry, Your Lordship. Anyway, I’m sort of at my wit’s end here. I’d like Zayn to take Mia on weekends, I want him to bond with her, but I refuse to back down from giving Liam guardianship toward her,” Louis says, shrugging. “Like, he’s earned it, he loves her. I mean, you can see that right now, right behind me.”

The judge leans over in his seat. “Mr Payne,” he says.

“Yes?” Liam says, sounding surprised.

“Do you love that baby as much as your boyfriend claims?”

Louis turns to Liam. Liam looks down at Mia in his arms, studying her little face.

“Yes,” he says, his voice low and sweet. “I love her a lot, yeah. I'd do anything for her.”

Zayn scoffs again, this time with some hurt behind it.

“That’s a nasty cough you’ve got there, Mr Malik,” the judge says to him drily. “Can Mr Brier possibly furnish you with some lozenges?”

Zayn falls into silence.

Louis sits, and takes Mia back from Liam. She makes an unhappy noise, and Louis gently bounces her.

“I’ll hear from you now, Mr Malik,” the judge says to Zayn.

He stands.

“I haven’t got much to say,” he mutters. “Sorry. Just, ah… I’m sorry, Louis, I really am, that I haven’t taken her yet. You know I want to be in her life, I have been visitin’...”

“Not enough,” Louis snaps.

“Mr Tomlinson, you have not been asked to address the court,” Hawthorne says to him sharply.

Zayn lets out a shaky breath. “It’s difficult for me not to feel like I’m bein’ pushed out to make room for Liam,” he says bitterly. “I’m tryin’ to get a record together right now, I’m tryin’ to get my life in order -- I suppose the baby didn’t feel quite real to me for a while, and I procrastinated, and I’ve been sort of scared to take her on alone. But I’ve reached out to my family about it, and a member of my backing band actually offered to help if I need it, so over this last week I’ve gotten things in order enough that I now feel properly prepared to take her…”

Mia begins to cry. Louis has no idea what could be wrong. He bounces her, but she’s full-on upset over something, and it doesn’t do anything.

He stands to take her out, but Simon stops him. “Don’t leave during proceedings,” he mutters.

“Well,” Louis says in exasperation, and starts to hand her to Liam, who quickly reaches his arms out.

“Hold on,” the judge interrupts. “Hand her to Mr Malik. I’d like to see him with her.”

Louis stays frozen in place. Liam shrinks back.

Everyone looks at Louis, waiting.

Zayn gets up and approaches him, then holds his arms out expectantly. Louis stares at him, upset by the look on his face.

“Mate,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes. “Please. What, you’re medically incapable of passing her off to anybody that isn’t Liam?”

“No,” Louis snaps, hurt, handing her over.

Zayn does well with her, likely to his legal team’s great relief. She quiets down in his arms and he dotes on her, stroking her head and letting her hold one of his fingers in her little hand. When she’s stopped making noise, Zayn reluctantly returns her to Louis.

“You’re good with her,” Louis mouths to him. Zayn’s jaw tightens and he looks away, his eyes bright.

“Take your seats,” the judge instructs. When they have, he folds his arms and sighs.

“I’ve come to a decision,” he says. “I believe it’s an obvious conclusion, one you all could have reached by yourselves, but it’s apparent to me that tensions are running high enough here that a cooler head must prevail. So I will be the cooler head _for_ you. Mr Malik, you will have trial custody of your daughter every weekend for the next eight weeks, to begin this Friday. I expect you to take her every single weekend, regardless of other obligations or your anxiety about parenting. Once you’ve proven yourself capable and fit over this trial period, we will all meet again to discuss this arrangement becoming permanent or more expansive.”

The judge glances at Louis, who looks up at him expectantly, hope thrumming in his bones.

“As a corollary to this, I am approving the application for Mr Payne’s Parental Responsibility Agreement,” he says. “It’s clear to me that he has thoroughly demonstrated he has been acting as a parent to this child, and that there’s no reason to deny his desire for a legal right to her.”

Liam leans forward and grips Louis’ shoulder. “Thank God,” he whispers. Louis reaches up and squeezes his hand, dizzy with relief.

Across the room, Zayn looks stricken.

“I am additionally requiring that everyone involved in this arrangement -- Malik, Tomlinson, and Payne, will attend up to five sessions and no less than three sessions of family counseling, with a counselor to be determined by this court,” Hawthorne adds.

Louis feels a wave of dread sweep over him. He and Zayn glance at each other, sharing in the knowledge of what a clusterfuck that's going to be.

 

*

 

Out in the parking lot, the wind is whipping hard and there’s an ominous mass of clouds rolling in from the horizon. Louis coos and babbles at a sleepy Mia as they wait for the Escalade to pull around.

Zayn walks out, and after a brief conversation with his lawyers, separates himself from them to approach Liam and Louis. He jams his hands in his pockets and keeps a certain distance. Liam tenses up, staring him down.

“So this is it,” Zayn calls over the wind. “Here we go, into the era of DJ Stepdad.”

“Why don’t you just head home, Zayn,” Liam shouts, wearied, sliding a protective arm over Louis’ shoulders.

“What a nice little family portrait,” Zayn snaps. Louis rolls his eyes and holds Mia tighter to his chest. “Bad job that she came out dark like me, innit? Must make it harder for you to squint an’ pretend she’s yours, huh, Liam?”

Louis aches at the raw sound of Zayn’s voice, at how hurt he clearly is. He wants to scream _that isn’t how it is, that isn’t it at all,_ but all he can do is stand there, clutching their daughter.

“She hasn’t got to look like me,” Liam says back sharply, “that's not the fucking point, Zayn!”

Seeming unaware of what he’s doing, he starts to move away from Louis to step closer to Zayn. Louis grabs him hard by the suit sleeve and jerks him back. They meet eyes, and Louis gives him a severe enough glare that he relents.

“Listen to your man, Liam,” Zayn says. “Wouldn’t want you to get your arse kicked again.”

It doesn’t quite sound like his heart is in it. He mostly just sounds sad.

Liam fumes silently, his boyish features taut with anger, but he doesn’t leave Louis’ side.

“You’d better be there this weekend,” Louis yells at Zayn. The car pulls up and Paddy sticks his hand out the window, beckoning them. Louis begins walking away, trailed by Liam. “Eight sharp on Friday! Don’t be fuckin’ late!”

“I won’t be!” Zayn hollers back, bending to light a cigarette as he departs. “Have her ready to go.”

Louis gives his retreating back the finger and then loudly slams the car door behind himself, which upsets Mia as he’s settling her into the car seat.

“Shh,” Louis begs her, “shh, sorry, sorry Mims --”

“Now who’s letting his emotions get the best of him,” Liam mutters.

Louis’ gaze snaps up. “Hey,” he says. “You realize we _won_ today, right? We fucking got what we wanted? So pick your battles with Zayn!”

“He can’t just _say_ those things to me,” Liam says, wounded. “Or about her. It’s not right, Louis!”

“It isn’t right, but neither is getting in a scrap with him in the parking lot outside family court, while I stand there holding the baby!” Louis bursts out, exasperated. “Especially when we know there’s paps lurkin’ around here who'd all kill for that shot!”

“I wasn’t going to _fight_ him!” Liam splutters. “Not really!”

“I know, babe! I know! It’s just…” Louis puts his face in his hands and runs them through his hair. “Please remember I’ve just had a baby last month, alright? I’m fuckin’... I’m not at my best, this sort of thing’s hard on me. I’m sick of bein’ in the middle, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” Liam says, morose. He looks up at Louis. The dark circles under his eyes are made more apparent by the gray light filtering in the car windows. “I am, but... I can’t be talked to like that. If I don't fight him on it, it'll only get worse.”

Louis sits back against the seat, exhausted, unwilling to argue. “Fine,” he snaps. “Fine. Whatever.”

They ride home in silence.


	24. Chapter 24

LONDON, JUNE 6, 2016

“Don't come in,” Louis tells Liam. “Stay in the car.”

Liam nods. His face is dimly illuminated by the lights on Zayn's fence posts.

“I'll drive around the block for a bit,” he says. “Text me.”

Louis rings at the gate as Liam drives away. Zayn doesn’t answer at first, and Louis rings again, increasingly more frantically until he appears in the doorway, clutching their squalling daughter.

“Thank God,” Zayn mutters, heaving open the front door one-handedly. “Take her?”

Louis accepts the wailing Mia into his arms and immediately begins to soothe her, singing and cooing to her as he rocks her.

He follows Zayn into the house. The place is a disaster, strewn with magazines, clothes, and notebooks full of angry scribbles that look like half-written lyrics. His piano in the sitting room is piled up with laundry, and the couch is littered with unsigned paperwork. Louis gingerly sits on the end of it as Zayn collapses in a chair across from him.

Zayn looks about as bad as his house does. His dark hair is standing up on end. His eyes are heavily rimmed with lines and bags, he's thinner than usual, and his lips are chapped. He scrubs at his face with his hands as Louis tends to Mia, who’s slowly calming down.

“I dunno how you do it,” Zayn mutters.

“Who’s my sweet girl?” Louis says to Mia. She gazes into his eyes and gives him a gummy smile. He glances over at Zayn and says, “It’s just she knows me best, is all.”

“I mean do it every day,” Zayn says hoarsely.

Louis shrugs. “You get used to it.”

Zayn pushes his hands into his hair, his silver rings flashing in the dark.

“I was finally getting some good sleep,” Louis says, trying to keep his voice light and taking care not to say _we_. “Before you called.”

“I always forget what it's like when she’s like this,” Zayn mumbles. “Haven't slept all fuckin’ weekend.”

“She’s getting older, mate, it won’t always be like this,” Louis reminds him. Mia squirms a little in his arms, and he shifts so she feels more secure and strokes her inky dark hair. “And this is the first time in a while you've had to have me come round. You’re normally quite good with her.”

“First time I've _had_ her in two weeks,” Zayn says bitterly. “Maybe she forgot me.”

“Oh, she wouldn't have,” Louis scoffs, very softly. “And you've been off doing promo, mate, it isn't my fault.”

Zayn shakes his head. “That isn’t what I mean. I'm not blamin’ you if she has, I’m just saying.”

He lets out a long sigh, and looks up at Louis.

“You look good,” he comments.

Louis is uncomfortable with Zayn saying things like this, and he privately disagrees to boot. He hasn’t been able to shake the stubborn last five pounds of baby weight, and he’s convinced his arse and face haven’t quite recovered yet, despite the long hours he’s putting in exercising.

“Is something wrong? You seem down,” he says, setting Mia down on his lap and tickling her belly. She giggles. She’s only just started laughing, but it’s already Louis’ most beloved sound.

“Uhhh,” Zayn says, rubbing his eyes. “Since you’re asking, Gigi’s just left me. This past week, actually.”

Louis looks up in surprise. “Jesus, man, I'm so sorry,” he says, genuinely. “That’s a pisser.”

“She couldn’t deal with it,” Zayn says, lacing his hands together and looking at the coffee table as if to avoid Louis’ gaze. “The baby thing, the… you.”

“What about me?” Louis says warily, getting the impression they’re making their way out into dark waters.

“Nothin’,” Zayn says. “I dunno, mate, I mean, she and I were datin’, you were havin’ my baby. That was weird enough, or it should have been, anyway. She said she was alright with it at the time, and then, you know, I made the effort to be in Mia’s life more, get serious about it, and she got cold feet and bailed.”

“That's too bad,” Louis mutters, kissing Mia on the top of her head. She reaches out with a little fist and grabs at the zipper of his hoodie.

He looks down at their daughter. The older she gets, the more he can see the clear blend of their features in her face. She has a mix of their eyes, wide-set, almond-shaped and catlike, with hooded eyelids. She’s got Louis' nose, though.

“It was bound to happen,” Zayn says. “She didn’t sign on for this. She’s in the prime of her life right now, the top of her career, she’s young like me, got no serious obligations. I don’t think it ever felt real to her. I can’t blame her.”

Louis nods. “I s’pose not,” he says quietly.

“You’re lucky,” Zayn says. “With Liam. I bet Liam could have got her soothed, tonight.”

Louis swallows, wondering how he can back Zayn off of this path he’s headed down. "Maybe, maybe not.”

“You’ve got the opposite,” Zayn says bitterly. “Someone it’s _too_ real for.”

“Zayn, stop…"

“And you were so ready to let him, just so you could rush into his arms,” Zayn steamrolls ahead, paying Louis no mind. “You were both so ready to pretend it didn’t matter how I felt.”

“Zayn,” Louis hisses. “Remember what we talked about in therapy? I'm acknowledgin’ how this is hard for you! We’re working through this! You’re making an effort, and it shows, alright? Things are getting better!”

“I dunno if they’re ever gonna get better between me and him, though,” Zayn snaps.

Louis groans in frustration. “Can you like, go make yourself a cup of tea or summat, and let’s talk more calmly?”

From his lap, Mia looks up at Louis and makes an unhappy noise. He picks up a stuffed animal and hands it to her, then glances at the wall above the fireplace, where Zayn has spraypainted FUCK THIS SHIT with harsh black paint. He wonders if this is a post-Gigi addition, as it wasn't here last week.

“I don’t want tea,” Zayn says stubbornly.

“Look…” Louis rubs his eyes and pushes his fringe off his forehead. “I was going through a lot, I was pregnant, and alone, and it was awful. And before you say it, I know I could have left tour, and you know what, maybe I ought to have. And I've admitted that, now! But it was the only thing keepin’ me sane in that situation. And it could be the last one we ever do, as a band. So I stuck it out, and it is what it is  --”

“I don’t want to hash it all out again,” Zayn mutters. “It just still hurts that he’s bonded to her.”

“You’ll always be her dad,” Louis tells him, his voice cracking from exhaustion. “Alright? I mean, like, every day she reminds me of you in some new way. She’s yours. Liam would never think he could take that from you. And honestly, mate, sometimes I think he misses you a lot worse than he’ll admit.”

Zayn shakes his head and snorts, rubbing his palms together.

“I’m serious,” Louis says intently. “He’s angry ‘cos you’re angry. He’s angry because he’s hurt. He’s angry because on some level, he still loves you, and he never knew you could hate him this much.”

“Whatever,” Zayn says, but it’s clear this gets beneath his skin and makes him deeply sad.

Louis rubs Mia’s back over her onesie.

“He’s just getting so much with her,” Zayn says, sounding emotional, and he swipes at his nose with his thumb. “He’ll see her first steps, hear her first word --”

“You know, she might have those with _you,_ ” Louis points out. “An’ then I’ll be the one missing out.”

“He got to see her born,” Zayn continues bitterly, ignoring him. “I didn’t even get to see my own child born.”

Louis sighs. He’s so tired of having this conversation, tired down to the marrow of his bones. “Sorry for havin’ a surprise labor, pick up your phone next time,” he snarks.

Zayn snorts, and then starts full-out laughing.

Louis laughs too, without even knowing why. He’s punchy. “What’s funny?”

“Nothin’,” Zayn says with a smile. “Just, ‘next time’... Like I’m goin’ to get you pregnant again.”

They both laugh at that. Mia likes the sound of laughter, and she looks around with a smile on her face. As they calm down, Louis thinks he notices a bit of sadness in Zayn's eyes, but it's gone in a flash.

Louis texts Liam _come back now._

“Look, I ought to go,” he says, and takes Mia back over to her father, who accepts her gratefully. “She should be quiet now, just heat her up a bottle in about a half hour.”

“Got it,” Zayn says, kissing her on the forehead. She burbles at him.

“Text me if you need anything,” Louis instructs on his way out of the living room. Zayn gives him a thumbs up.

“Thanks, mate,” he yells, when Louis is almost out the door. 

 

*

 

When Liam pulls up, Louis flees toward the Lambo and flings himself in the passenger side, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

“That bad?” Liam says, looking over at him with sympathy as he gets the car in gear. “Let's get you home and back in bed.”

“Not really,” Louis mutters. “I mean, Mia was fine, she just needed a bit of soothing. Just, Zayn…”

Liam puts a hand up. “Wait, Tommo… I think we ought to maybe try and to stick to our goal of you not sharing everything he says with me.”

“Because it drives a wedge between me and him as parents and undermines ‘im, or because the shit he says about us pisses you off?”

Liam bops his head in consternation as they hit the main road. He turns the radio on low. “Bit of both, honestly.”

“It’s just… well, can I just say one thing?” Louis says, propping his Vans up on the dash. “That he’s stroppy at me that he wasn’t there when I gave birth?”

Liam laughs, not unkindly. “Did he forget how he left his phone facedown on the floor of the studio when he knew full well you were nine months pregnant?”

“What was that even like, when he rang you back?” Louis says, glancing over at Liam in the dark of the car. Streetlights pass over Liam’s face. He looks tired, but slightly exhilarated from the night driving. Early morning is the only time the crowded city roads are so empty that he can turn this car out the way it’s meant to be. Louis enjoys the smooth ride as they fly through London; nowadays he’s usually always got the baby, and so is stuck in the luxury SUVs.

Liam hesitates. “He sounded, like, frantic,” he says. “Which makes sense. He wanted to know if you were okay.”

“Did he ask if you were in the room with me?”

“We sort of passed right over that,” Liam admits. “I don’t think he wanted to know. Like, he must’ve put two and two together. I’m sure it bothers him I was there, but it’s not like he would have wanted you to go through it alone. He met her first, and that's the important thing, I think… I ought to stop talking, now.”

“No, no,” Louis admonishes him. “C’mon, love, don’t leave me here alone in my shit-talking.”

“I’ve really got to learn how to back off,” Liam insists. “I’ve got, like… this is embarrassing, but I’ve got a step-parenting book?”

“I know,” Louis says, grinning at him. “I’ve seen it, you hid it in _our_ underwear drawer, you daft goose.”

Liam goes a bit pink and stutters. “I didn’t -- I thought -- right, _anyway,_ my book says that backing off is the most important thing for a step-dad to know how to do.”

“I could have told you _that_ ,” Louis says dismissively. “I’ve been a stepchild my whole life.”

“I haven’t!” Liam defends himself. “I’m still learning… I need my books.”

Louis snorts fondly.

They share a bit of quiet, then Pillowtalk comes on the radio and they both jump as if scalded. A drowsy Liam slaps at the dash display haphazardly and ends up putting on Radio 4, then just turning the thing off entirely.

“I appreciate it,” Louis murmurs. “That you try so hard. But really, love, you don’t have to worry so much. It comes naturally to you, bein’ a dad. You’re great with her.”

He looks at Liam, who’s smiling bashfully. “Thanks,” he says. “It’s good to hear that.”

“Only sayin’ it ‘cos I mean it.”

Liam’s quiet for a while. “I think…” he says, and then pauses, like he does sometimes when he’s got a million big thoughts and they’re crowded in the doorway from his brain to his mouth. Louis waits patiently, craving a cigarette but knowing he ought to stay tough since he’s been cold turkey for so long.

“I think Zayn still loves you, in his way,” he says.

It falls heavily between them.

“Funny,” Louis says, even though it isn't. “I just said the same thing about you to him.”

Liam glances at him. “What?”

“I mean… you know what I mean. That you’re hurt because you still care for him, but he’s made up his mind to hate you.”

“I've apologized so many times,” Liam says, sounding sad. “I know that doesn't mean much to him. I know what he wants from me. I can't give him that. I can't give you up. And I can't be with you without being in her life.”

“I know, lad,” Louis murmurs.

“I wish he'd would drop his pride,” Liam continues, his jaw tight but his voice weak and thin. “That’s all I want. I wish he could remember the history he and I have. We're like… God." He sighs painfully, and doesn't finish his sentence.

“Good luck,” Louis says, steeling himself against a swelling internal tide of pain, regret and self-blame. He pulls his hoodie up over his head and sinks further back in the seat. “He’s about as stubborn and proud as I am.”

“Northerners,” Liam mutters.

“Hey!” Louis exclaims, aggrieved. Liam laughs. Louis reaches over to flick him on the face, and Liam waves him away.

“I’m driving!” he says.

Louis returns his hands to his lap. “Zayn’s also gone a bit barmy, so…”

“He hasn’t gone _barmy_ ,” Liam says, rolling his eyes. “He’s just got a lot of pent-up depression and anxiety to work through. Or, that was what Dr Sophie thought, anyway. It’s hard to tell in three sessions.”

Louis snorts. “She was a bit of a bint, that one.”

“She was nice to _me_ ,” Liam counters, affronted.

“She felt sorry for you! I mean, with good reason, with like -- the fuckin’ first session, Zayn tries to get you kicked out and then practically jumps ya --”

Liam winces and shakes his head quickly, like he’s trying to dislodge a mental image. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“And how I got between you, and then he got all stroppy because he refused to even lay hands on me to move me ‘cos I’d just had the baby, so he just, like, walked out and left to go buy cigarettes?”

Liam nods. “But she still counted it as a session, which was good of her.”

“‘Cos you and I stayed. That’s why I don’t like her, ‘cos that’s when she was like, oh Louis, what are you going to tell your daughter when she’s old enough to ask questions about this whole situation?” Louis says, trying not to sound as bitter about this as he still is. “And I was like, oh, I’ll just tell her I’m a slut who couldn’t keep my legs closed, and she got all offended. Like I just pulled that out of my arse, when she was totally baiting me.”

“She was asking a question,” Liam says patiently. “Like shrinks do, y’know?”

Louis shakes his head. “Didn’t like her. Betas, they’ve got weird attitudes like that sometimes.”

“But you do get defensive about that, even when you don't need to be,” Liam tells him.

“Ohh, enlighten me further, Dr Payno,” Louis says mockingly. “Is defendin’ your slutty partner’s honor a chapter in your book?”

Liam puts up a hand. “Okay, forget it.”

“You've got no idea,” Louis says to him, his voice tight. His stomach is in knots from even broaching the subject, which he's plenty sensitive and insecure about. “You get to be the good guy, everyone thinks you swooped in on a white horse and saved me.”

“Or that I'm a homewrecker,” Liam counters.

“Still not as bad as bein’ a fickle whore!” Louis snaps. “And I'm a homewrecker, too, don't forget! Him and Pez!”

“People don't think about it like that!” Liam says, exasperated.

“You live in a fuckin’ dream world, sometimes, honestly,” Louis says.

They don't say anything for a bit. Louis tries to get himself to cool off.

“People that _matter_ don't think that,” Liam says quietly. “That's all I meant. Because it isn't true.”

Louis rolls his head over on the seat and stares out the window. “It's a little true,” he mutters.

“It isn't!”

“Liam,” Louis says, exasperated. “You don't think it's true because you think the sun shines out of my arse. But objectively, what do you think of someone like me?”

“I think you were in a hard situation and things happen,” Liam says firmly. “I think love is complicated and it doesn't always look how people think it should, but what matters is what the people who are in it think.”

“That's nice, Payno, but what about all the rags, all the shit I've seen printed about myself and about her, the tweets and comments -- shit she’ll be able to pull up someday with one click? Shit that calls me sleazy, a rat, disloyal --”

“It's trash,” Liam says vehemently. “It's garbage, Louis, it makes me angrier than I could ever even say, but she's your daughter, she'll think the _world_ of you. You can explain to her that rags are full of lies and they just exist to sell themselves, because it's the truth! And she'll be hurt by that shit if she sees it, but she'll never _believe_ it, not in a million years!”

Louis looks over at Liam, at his guileless face, and at his expression of utter sincerity and belief in the unalienable loyalty of daughters to their fathers. He's moved by a great love for all of the aspects that make Liam who he is.

“Hey,” he murmurs, overcome by something he hasn't felt in a while.

Liam is preoccupied as he pulls up into Louis’ circular drive and cuts the engine. “Huh?”

Louis leans over toward Liam’s seat, no longer feeling tired. “I said, hey,” he says throatily.

Liam stares at him, and then Louis sees comprehension dawning in his eyes.

“Hi there,” Liam says, smiling and reaching out to run his hand through Louis’ hair and then cup his jaw.

Louis gets out of the car and walks around to open Liam’s door for him. Liam immediately gets to his feet, drops his keys and sunglasses, wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and drags him in for a kiss so hard that Louis’ feet mostly leave the ground.

“Payno,” Louis murmurs adoringly.

“I don't want you to think I don't hate it when people say that shit about you,” Liam whispers as he kisses up Louis’ neck and under his ear. “I fucking hate it, more than anything --”

“I know, love, I know --”

“You're the best person I've ever met --”

Louis slings his arms around Liam's neck and looks him right in the eye. “Take me to bed,” he says. “Make proper love to me.”

“Really?” Liam says, his eyes glimmering with excitement, his hands in Louis’ hair. “You're feeling up for it?”

“I’m up for it if you are,” Louis says with a grin.

 

*

 

There's been plenty of rushed handjobs and blowjobs since Mia came, but they haven't had penetrative sex since last year, so Liam takes it very slowly and uses plenty of lube.

Louis forgot how wonderful it is to have Liam inside of him. He forgot how nice missionary is, with nothing in the way of them pressing their chest together and exchanging sloppy mouth kisses, him moaning against Liam's lips and running his hands through his hair and dragging his nails up his back as Liam moves in him.

“Louis,” Liam moans, yanking on his hair, and Louis makes a choked keening sound and spreads his legs wider so Liam can get in deeper.

They lie together for a good four minutes of absolute ecstasy, seizing at each other and making as much noise as they want to, and then Liam’s thrusts taper off and he comes inside of Louis with a sighing grunt, grabbing at Louis’ arse as he does.

Louis lets out a shaky breath of pleasure. Liam reaches a hand up and begins to jerk him off. Louis lies back, utterly content, and then comes into Liam's hand. Liam leans across him to grab a flannel, then settles back down against him, his lips close to Louis’ ear and his hand pressed to the dip of his waist, thumb trailing over his stretch marks.

“Sorry that was so fast,” Liam says with a laugh.

“‘S’okay, it's been a while,” Louis says, his voice low and cheery, trailing a hand over the comforting warmth of Liam. “If you'd have been able to hold out, I might be suspicious you'd been peddlin’ your wares somewhere else.”

“Too tired for that,” Liam murmurs, kissing his cheek.

“Good,” Louis says. “That's how you keep a man, innit? Keep him exhausted.”

Liam suddenly freezes. “Wait, you are on pills again, right?”

“Yes, Payno,” Louis assures him. “Christ’s sake, I’ve just let you come inside me, haven't I?”

“Oh, well, good,” Liam says in relief.

“Trust me, I've learned my lesson there.”

He sits up on the bed and he and Liam readjust themselves so they're spooning. Liam wraps his arm around Louis’ waist and kisses the back of his neck. Louis closes his eyes, feeling wonderfully safe, ready to drift off.

“Don't get me wrong, I'd love a baby with you,” Liam says, sounding a bit unsure of himself. “If you want another. Eventually.”

“Of course,” Louis says sleepily, feeling pleasantly tingly at hearing him say that. “I’d love that too.”

Liam tightens his grip on him. “Good to know,” he murmurs, and kisses Louis’ head. Louis smiles.

 

JUNE 7, 2016

_Zigi is no more!_

 

_Power couple Zayn Malik and Gigi Hadid have called it quits on their relationship, a source confirms to Us Weekly. The supermodel, 21, and R &B crooner, 23, dated for 8 months. _

 

_“It just wasn’t working for Gigi anymore,” a source told Us. “She was the one to break it off with him. He’s absorbed in so many other things… she felt neglected, honestly.”_

 

_Many are already speculating that the split has to do with Zayn’s new status as a baby daddy to his ex-bandmate, Louis Tomlinson, 24. The pair welcomed daughter Mia Yasmeen Tomlinson in January. Louis is currently dating bandmate Liam Payne, 22._

 

_Zayn has been spotted out and about a few times with his infant daughter, never with Hadid by his side._

 

_Kendall Jenner, Gigi’s best bud and fellow model, said to paparazzi this morning that “it’s nobody’s business but theirs.” When asked if she had any insight into the split, she shrugged._

 

_“It’s been tough for them lately,” was all she would say._


	25. Chapter 25

LONDON, APRIL 25, 2018

“Shit, you’ve gotten even more domestic since I was here last,” Niall calls from the other room.

Louis rolls his eyes, amused. He’s seated at the kitchen island with Harry and Liam, while they patiently wait for Niall to get down to business with them. He started off this band meeting by talking for a half hour about golf, then noticed some overripe avocados on the counter and insisted on making guacamole, played tickle monster with Mia for a while, and now he’s wandering around inspecting their interior design choices.

“How, lad?” Louis yells back. “We’ve just put up a print in the sitting room of a giant middle finger.”

“I mean the accents,” Niall calls, and his voice and steps start getting closer. He appears in the door, all sandy blonde head and deeply tan skin, scratching the back of his neck. “You’ve got like, eucalyptus branches about. Very well-off ma of four, very like, ‘Donna, love, while you’re in the shitter, make sure to have a look at me new monogrammed bathroom towels, aren't they somethin’?’”

“That’s all Liam’s doing,” Louis says, pointing at Liam across the table, who laughs.

“I like things to be nice!” Liam defends himself.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Harry says, looking simultaneously amused and exhausted with all of this. “Could we actually sit down and talk now?”

“Right, yeah,” Niall says, and takes a seat on a stool.

They’re all silent for a bit, glancing around at each other.

“This is weird, innit?” Louis says, breaking the silence. “Wouldn’t think we’d have forgotten how to be a band.”

“I don’t think it’s _that,_ ” Harry drawls, leaning sideways in his seat. “Nothing that dramatic. It’s just… a lot’s changed.”

“But not much, at the same time,” Liam counters. “So, I’ll just jump in then -- Louis and I have sort of just been earmarking loads of good stuff. Opening licks, solid melodies. And we’ve recorded some demos, just fucking around with new sound.”

“I’ve got a lot of bits and pieces as well,” Harry puts in. “When Niall and me were in Ireland last month, we sort of pooled our notes, and there’s, like... a lot of good overlap.”

“The other thing is the tour question,” Niall says, drumming his fingers on the counter.

“No more world tours,” Louis says decisively, getting prickly sweats with anxiety at the very mention. “I’m puttin’ my foot down. Maybe in ten years, as a reunion dealie. But I’m not doin’ that again while Mia’s still small.”

“Totally get that,” Harry says, nodding. “We could do just Europe, or Europe and the states. We’ll see. I’d like to put off any touring ‘til next year, if we can.”

“When do we want to meet up to write?” Louis says, asking all of them but focusing on Harry, who he hasn’t actually seen in months.

Harry shrugs. “I’m so in and out of London, with auditions,” he says. “I can contribute from wherever. You two, obviously, can keep writing together, and just get together with me or Niall whenever it’s convenient for all of us. If either of you are in LA on business, you know, come see me at my place there, whatever works.”

Liam’s next to Louis, and he reaches out and settles a hand on Louis’ hip. Louis leans into his touch.

“Sounds good,” Niall says, nodding. “I’m sorta all over the place with tournaments in the spring, but I see you two enough, wouldn’t be hard to turn one of those days into a writin’ session. And Harry, we can write whenever you pop over.”

“I was thinking, write and record all summer, push the record out in the winter, and then we can talk touring later on,” Liam says, his voice all businesslike with an underlying excitement to it. He slides his hand over Louis’ lower back and rubs his back under his shirt.

Louis feels strangely unsettled by how quickly this conversation is progressing.

“Later on,” he agrees.

 

 

LONDON, APRIL 26, 2018

“Maybe you don’t want the band back together as much as you thought?” his therapist Lena says, as she studies him.

Louis shakes his head. He finds it frustrating how she always sounds like she’s always trying to soothe him, even when he isn’t upset.

“It isn’t that,” he argues. “It’s been plenty of time, I’ve hit a bit of a lull with findin’ new talent, so I’d like to have something to work on. And I’ve missed the boys, I’ve missed actually making music.”

“It can be hard to go back to something, once we think we’ve moved on from it,” says Lena, sagely, like this is some great revelation. She’s a specific sort of Southerner; soigne and crisply put together, with a bland face like a pudding and very evenly bobbed hair.

“Yeah,” Louis admits. “I’m just surprised that I’m so bothered by the idea of a tour, I guess. ‘Cos it’s _that_ specifically, really.”

“Well, but why wouldn’t you be apprehensive?” Lena says. “The last time you toured, you were pregnant, so dealing with an extreme physical hardship, and a large personal upheaval, being terribly criticized and lambasted in the public eye, all while doing an incredibly difficult job. After you’d been doing said job for five straight years, with hardly any time off. And,” she arches an eyebrow at him, “I’m still not convinced you’re not somewhat traumatized from seeing people say awful, cruel things about you and your daughter and your relationship on social media all the time. I’m not convinced all five of you boys aren’t traumatized, overall, in fact.”

Louis decides to just slide on past this, as it’s a lot to deal with. “But now I’ve _had_ time off,” he argues, breaking eye contact with her and glancing down at his shoes. One of his trainers is untied. “I should be rested up.”

“Now you’ve got a family,” Lena points out. “Now you’re very happy, with a man you love and a young child, and you’re both doing well in your chosen aspects of the music industry without the structure of a band behind you.”

“I just -- somethin’ about _that_ makes me uncomfortable, too,” he says. “I’m more uncomfortable not continuin’ with the band, like.”

“I’m not sure you’ve quite learned yet how to enjoy being happy,” Lena says. “You aren’t sure yet how to live with a lack of chaos or upheaval. Remember how things settled down with Zayn, and then you kept picking fights with Liam? It wasn’t because you were truly unhappy with him, it’s because you were _too_ happy with him. You crave stability, but you create chaos.”

“Then I’m just fucked up,” Louis shoots back, tossing his hands in the air. “I’m just doomed to not be happy.”

“ _No_ , Louis. Look, if you do decide you’d like to tour again, find a way to make it as easy on yourself as possible. Talk about it with your fiancé, as often as you can. Express your real feelings to him.” Her gaze bores into him. “Express your fear! Express your discomfort! Don’t deny your own emotions, don’t always be jumping to the protective mechanisms of sarcasm and closing yourself off. Don’t wallow in your anxiety and push people away for not being able to read your mind.”

Louis considers this.

“Is that my homework?” he says. “Discuss my tour anxiety with Liam?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, then,” he says, with some reluctance. Lena smiles at him knowingly over her notepad.

 

*

 

Back at the house, Louis finds Liam in his recording lair upstairs, tapping away at his computer with Mia on his lap.

“She’s helping me produce this track,” Liam says very seriously to Louis, who leans in the doorway and smiles fondly at them.

“Too loud, Daddy,” is Mia’s input. She sticks an arm out to the keyboard. Liam very gently takes her hand and steers it back. She relents.

“Is it loud, darling?” Louis says, and squats down. Mia slides off of Liam’s lap and runs over to him for a hug, crashing into him and ramming his sunglasses hard against his face. He takes them off, blinking in a dazed way, then squeezes her.

“Could we talk a bit?” Louis says to Liam over her shoulder.

Liam immediately spins in his chair with raised eyebrows. “Course, love,” he says, sounding a bit concerned.

Louis untangles himself from Mia and tells her to go play in her room. She pouts, but he stands firm, and she toddles off down the hall, babbling something nonsensical but defiant as she goes.

Liam beckons Louis forward. Louis comes over to him and settles tiredly in his lap.

Liam sweeps his hair back off his forehead and kisses his temple. “Hi there. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis assures him.

“Alright, ‘cos when you come back from therapy all like, ‘we need to talk’, I’m bound to shit my pants a little…”

Louis laughs. “Nothin’ to shit your pants about, I promise.”

“And your face can be a bit scary, sometimes…”

Louis grins softly and leans into Liam’s warmth, enjoying his touch. He plays with his engagement band a bit. Liam laces their hands together, his larger one holding onto Louis’ tightly.

“What’s wrong?” he says, letting his head fall so his forehead is settled in the crook of Louis’ neck and shoulder. He kisses Louis’ sharp shoulder blade. “Talk to me, Tommo.”

“Give us a bit,” Louis murmurs. “Puttin’ my thoughts together.”

He adjusts his position on Liam’s lap and Liam looks up, meeting his eyes. Louis strokes Liam’s hair with both hands, grounding himself by looking at his sweet face, watching how his bright sparrow eyes study Louis as he waits patiently for him to speak.

“Today we just talked about, like, how I’m feeling weird about the band getting back together,” he finally says.

Liam strokes his chest. “I think we all feel weird about it, love.”

“Right,” Louis mutters. “But the touring aspect specifically.”

Liam doesn’t seem to be twigging. Louis sighs.

“Because of how hard the last tour was on me,” he says. “And how I still haven’t dealt with that, really. And I’ve just sort of pushed it aside and run from it, straight into my life with you, but it really was, just, a lot…”

“I know,” Liam says sadly, tightening his grip around Louis.

“And things got so fucked up with the boys,” Louis says. “Not Niall. Not you…”

“I made more problems for you,” Liam says, with regret.

“No, don’t start. Well, actually, like, Niall was… Niall, y’know, he loves me, but he preferred to just pretend nothin’ was wrong, which didn’t help... Simon was fucking horrible to me," he says, now just on a roll. "And now I work with him, I see him sometimes, and I can’t even say, hey mate, remember when I got knocked up and you were a total fuckhead about it? Because he helped me get my company up and running, and it’d be ungrateful. I guess there’s still some resentment, there, toward a lot of people. I dunno. I’ve got to keep reminding myself we’re under new management now, all that…”

“I’m honestly so glad you got in therapy, ‘cos it’s good to hear you say these things,” Liam says genuinely. “I remember thinking it was crazy that you weren't angrier during all that."

"Really?" Louis says, studying him. "Think I was quite angry, actually. Like all the time, even."

"At Zayn, yeah, who conveniently wasn't there," Liam points out. Louis wants to argue, but doesn't. "But you sort of put your head down and pushed through the other shit. Like... well, I dunno. But I remember having talks with Harry in the early days, and the judgmental shit he'd say about you. I really had to like, tell him off once or twice.”

Louis laughs his arse off. “I can’t imagine that,” he says. “Saint Liam and Saint Harold? _Really_?”

“He’s not always a saint!” Liam exclaims. “And I let him know that, believe me!”

“My prince,” Louis says, grinning at him.

“But, you know,” Liam immediately says, “it was hard for him, and I understood that, he had a lot of pressure on him at the time, and I just wanted to smooth the road between you, help you understand each other…”

“I know,” Louis assures him. “I know, babe.”

“Look, if you need more time with the hiatus --”

Louis shakes his head vehemently. “No, no. We’ve had more than enough time. I want to get back to it. Just, ah, y’know, venting my spleen a bit, is all. I don’t want to not say these things, I don’t want to hold this shit inside.”

Liam gives him one of those looks he does sometimes, like Louis is a puzzle he’s been working on for eight years.

“Okay,” Liam finally says, with an amiable shrug. “Vent as much as you like.”

 

 

*

 

They discuss things a bit more, and then the conversation devolves into that sort of domestic shlock that Louis finds mind-numbing on a good day -- ‘ _did you have time to glance over those preschool applications?’ ‘No I didn’t, did you leave the check out for the gardener?’ ‘Yes I did, did you find a wedding planner you like?’ ‘Not yet, but did your mum ever call back about dropping off those photos I wanted to look at?’_ \-- so when he feels himself starting to become annoyed, he taps out, gives Liam a kiss, and goes to visit Mia in her room.

She isn’t much for playing pretend with him or Liam. So far, she hasn’t roped them into any tea parties. Louis notices the Zayn in her when she’s at play; her focused little dark brows, heavy over her blue eyes, and the singular and very serious way she handles her toys. She seems not to share Louis’ childhood eager destructiveness or show-off tendencies.

He sits on the carpet behind Mia, just observing her as she maneuvers her dolls around in her dollhouse.

“Hey Mims,” he says after a while of this, when he finds himself beginning to zone out. “You want lunch?”

“No,” she says stubbornly, but he knows she’s just engrossed in what she’s doing and is probably actually quite hungry.

“I think you do-o,” Louis sings to her. “I think you want what cooky made today.”

“No,” Mia repeats, but she looks over at him with wide-eyed curiosity.

“I think you want ginger sponge pudding,” he says.

“No,” Mia says again, paradoxically holding her arms out to him. Laughing, Louis picks her up and settles her on his hip as he makes his way downstairs.

“No lunch, Daddy,” she informs him.

“Alright,” Louis says agreeably. “So where’re we goin’, then?”

She just shakes her head.

He kisses her cheek. “Gotcha, love.”


	26. Chapter 26

CHICAGO, NOVEMBER 3, 2019

“Lordy,” Niall calls from the suite kitchen, with a pronounced slur in his voice. “Not enough alcohol in here, lads.”

“What are you on about?” Louis shouts back. “There’s half a bottle of Jager sitting out.”

“Ooh, didn’t see that,” Niall says, waggling his eyebrows and swiping it off the bar. “Nice, never mind.”

Louis laughs. They’ve all just straggled back in from various bars post-concert, and are now in Harry’s room, since he’s got a massive window that overlooks the dark sprawl and twinkling streets of nighttime Chicago. Louis is piled on the couch with an inert Liam and Harry -- Liam lying across his lap, exhausted from vomiting champagne, and Harry slightly more awake, lolled against Louis’ shoulder.

“One more tour down,” Niall says, staggering in, clinking the bottle against Louis’ empty whiskey glass.

“Wait, that’s bad luck,” Louis says, motioning for Niall to pour him some. Niall obliges, and they toast again. Niall grins at him, his face open and sunny.

“With all four of our North American dates over,” he teases Louis.

Louis laughs. “I don’t like leaving the kid!”

“Only left her for two weeks!” Niall says, and for lack of room on the couch, he collapses onto the floor. “So Zayn’s got her?”

Louis nods, jostling Harry. Harry moves up off of him, dropping his head to the back of the couch and drowsily looking at the ceiling.

“Water?” Louis says to him, and then when he nods, pokes the warm weight of Liam on his lap and offers him the same.

“Please,” Liam murmurs.

“I’ll get it,” Niall says, stumbling theatrically to his feet.

“Hey, I don’t think you need to drink anymore, Neil,” Louis calls after him. Niall flaps his hand, dismissively, and returns with two water bottles, which Louis distributes.

“He enjoyin’ it?” Niall says. “Havin’ her?”

Louis shrugs. Next to him, Harry suddenly begins breathing in a very measured way, like he’s pretending not to be paying attention.

“I think so,” Louis says, and he opens his phone, where he’s saved some snaps Zayn’s sent him of him and her together. He smiles at seeing them, and shows them to Niall.

“Shit, she really looks like him,” Niall says quietly, and lies back against the carpet.

“She does,” Louis affirms. It's bittersweet to see their faces in the same frame. For the sake of the two other people in the room, he changes the subject. “How’re things with you and Barbara?”

“Uhhh,” Niall moans, rubbing his eyes. “Uh, good, sorta. Weird, ‘cos it’s been a while for us. She’s, y’know, she’s got this son now with Gone, her son Heath, and he’s sweet, but he’s -- I dunno. ‘S’weird, datin’ somebody with a baby…”

He doesn't seem to realize what he's said.

“You know what’s weird,” Harry suddenly says. “Playing these little venues.”

Louis looks over at him, privately glad for the segue, which he thinks was intentional.

“I know,” he says. “It’s like Up All Night... We ought to bring the couch back.”

“I loved that couch,” Niall says wistfully, his blonde hair fanned out over the floor, and then he belches and starts coughing. “Alright, definitely just threw up in my mouth a little, lads.”

“Thanks for the update,” Louis says, stroking Liam’s hair. Liam leans into his touch happily.

“I think that couch was responsible for me and Zayn getting together,” Harry says softly, scratching his forearm.

Louis’ head whips around, and he looks at him with interest.

Harry grins.

“Listen, you can’t like, make fun of him for this, Louis,” he says. “‘Cos he’ll know I told you.”

“Damnit,” Louis says reluctantly. “Alright, fine.”

“He pulled me onto his lap in it once, and we were just fucking around, but then he got a bit of wood,” Harry says, yawning. “And I sort of turned and looked at him, like, Jesus. He looked so embarrassed… tried to play it off. But then I showed up at his door that night without any boxers on, so...”

“Harold, you minx,” Niall says appreciatively from the carpet.

Harry shrugs. Louis chuckles.

“I knew about that,” Liam mutters, sounding sad. “He told me about that.”

“Anyway, nix talking about Zayn,” Louis says, to no one in particular, and grabs Liam’s water out of his hand to have a sip of it himself. “I feel it bringin’ the room down.”

“I think Liam barfing on the rug brought the room down,” Harry comments drily.

“I didn’t mean to!” Liam slurs.

“Question,” Niall says. “Anyone else notice how mature our crowd was tonight? This was like, the worst yet. I mean, worst in a good way, y’know? I barely even saw any signs tonight. Girls were wearin’, like, _watches_ , they looked like they just got off work an’ shit. And so many blokes! Counted like twenty blokes in my eyeline alone! Are we cool now?”

“I think it’s distance,” Louis says sagely, moving his hand to Liam’s shoulder and running his fingers up and down his bicep. “People who always liked us can admit now that they did, ‘cos, like, the nostalgia factor. It’s like how a few years ago suddenly it was alright to admit that you always liked the Backstreet Boys.”

“I can’t believe we’re done with the tour,” Liam says quietly. “That flew by.”

Louis starts laughing. “I hope when we do GMA, Niall gives them that line about how we know things have changed ‘cos our fans wear watches now.”

“I saw sooo many watches!” Niall says emphatically, waving the bottle of Jager around. “Nice ones!”

“It was a good crowd,” Liam says, subdued from how drunk he is, but smiling. “I missed our girls.”

“Me too,” Harry murmurs. Louis nods.

 

*

 

Later on, Harry kicks Louis and Liam out and enlists Sandy’s help to roll a passed-out Niall off the floor and onto the couch.

“Why's he get the couch!” Liam calls petulantly, as Louis drags him to the hall.

“Because you've got someone to drag you to bed!” Harry says, sliding his feet out of his boots and gesturing at Louis. Louis grins and flexes his bicep as he pulls Liam through the door.

“Night Harold, night Sandy!”

Sandy is grunting with the effort of lifting Niall’s inert weight, but he offers a wave.

Back in their room, Louis has to use all of his upper body strength to shove the taller and more densely muscled Liam into their bed, as he's as unwieldy as an octopus.

“My fiancé’s so strong,” Liam murmurs as Louis takes his shoes off for him, and then his trousers. “I love calling you that. I can't wait til you're my husband, Tommo. I'm going to say it every --” he swallows queasily and rolls onto his side. “Every chance I get.”

“Don't barf in the bed,” Louis instructs him. “I set out a bucket.”

“Brilliant,” Liam groans. “Love you.”

Louis laughs fondly and leans forward to kiss him on the head and stroke his hair some more. “Love you too. Get some sleep. Don't sleep on your back, alright?”

He leaves Liam and retires to the living room, padding around their opulent suite in his sock feet, drinking cool water and eating an entire Toblerone out of the minibar in a lazy, absentminded way that lets him know he's still a bit drunk. He spreads their curtains and looks out over Chicago in his silk bathrobe, feeling quite pleased with himself and proud of the band, but missing his baby.

It occurs to Louis that it's nine in the morning in London, and he gets his phone out.

He FaceTimes Zayn, not expecting him to necessarily pick up, but then he does.

“Everythin’ okay?” he says, glancing at the phone. Louis can hear coffee brewing in the background. Zayn looks quite good in a rumpled, just woken way.

“All fine here,” Louis assures him.

“Ain't it like three in the morning there?”

“I'm about to go to sleep, we were up drinking.”

Zayn nods knowingly. “You want to talk to Yas? She's having breakfast.”

“Hi Daddy!” Mia chirps in the background.

Louis’ heart swells. “Hi baby,” he coos. “Hi angel.”

Zayn flips the camera to reveal her in all her glory, in her cupcake pajamas, with serious bedhead and working steadily on a bowl of Corn Pops.

“Are you having fun with Zayn?” he says to her.

“Yeah!” she says, distracted by her dogged focus on her cereal.

Zayn flips back to himself. “We went on the Eye yesterday,” he says. “She was a big fan.”

Louis beams. “Nice.”

“How was the last date?”

“Good,” Louis says emphatically. “Good.”

“Daddy’ll be home soon,” Zayn tells Mia.

“Okay,” she chirps back.

Zayn laughs. “She misses you like mad, she's just playin’ tough,” he says quietly to Louis, taking the phone in the other room. “I heard her talking to her stuffed animals about it.”

Louis’ heart twists. He cracks his knuckles. “We miss her too.”

He doesn't mean to say _we_ ; it slips out, a force of habit. Zayn clears his throat and says nothing. The light changes as he goes out on a balcony and takes a seat on a lounge chair. His face is lit softly by the hazy early morning glow of London. It makes Louis miss home.

Zayn lights a cigarette, the crackle of his lighter over the phone loud in the silence between them.

“Hey… are you really not coming to our wedding?” Louis says softly.

Zayn looks away. He shakes his head.

“Zayn,” Louis says, pained.

“Drop it, Louis, drop it,” he says sharply. “Things are good, so drop it.”

Louis swallows and sighs, then nods. “Fine, mate. Dropped.”

Zayn blows out a mouthful of smoke.

“Good man,” he says, sounding subdued.


	27. Chapter 27

LONDON, FEBRUARY 1, 2022

“We've got ten minutes,” Louis says the second Liam walks in the door, by way of hello.

Liam drops the groceries on the floor and grabs Louis by the waist, pulling him in for a hard kiss.

“What are you doing?” Louis says, pulling back a bit. “Just get me upstairs and fuck me.”

“We’ve got to have foreplay!” Liam protests, stroking his hair and swiping his thumbs gently over Louis’ cheekbones. “I don’t want our baby made all unromantic --”

“Really?” Louis says, squinting at him. “‘Cos I was gonna say, since we haven’t got a lot of time, just do me doggystyle on the couch here --”

“No, no, no,” Liam says, shaking his head vehemently. He takes Louis by the hand and guides him upstairs. “No,” he says again, as if the continued emphasis is necessary.

They step into the bedroom, and Liam picks up the Bluetooth remote and turns Spotify on the wall speakers; it’s already set on their sex playlist. Louis dims the lights.

Liam tosses the remote to the ground, and Louis approaches him so they can begin to kiss again. He begins pop the buttons of Liam’s dress shirt, and Liam tugs his tee over his head.

“We won’t have time,” Louis says anxiously, “he’ll be here any minute --”

Liam tips Louis’ chin up to get a better angle on his mouth, then kisses over his jaw and down his throat as he undoes Louis’ belt and starts to tug his trousers off his arse. Louis can feel Liam’s hard-on against his thigh, and his own hard-on is pressing uncomfortably against the fabric of his skinnies.

“It’s Zayn,” Liam murmurs, his mouth right next to Louis’ ear. “He’ll be late.”

Louis closes his eyes and clutches at Liam’s bicep. Liam nips at his ear, and a wonderful shudder goes through Louis.

Liam drags him over to the bed like a caveman, but then very tenderly pulls his trousers and briefs the rest of the way down, and strokes his cock all gentle. Then he settles himself between Louis’ legs and slides his hands all the way down Louis’ back to his arse, which he squeezes in two eager handfuls.

“Feel good?” Liam murmurs, as he squeezes lube onto his hands.

Louis does feel good; he feels wonderful. He’s horny beyond belief from the fertility supplements he’s on, and he wants Liam inside him right this instant, no more of this fussing around.

“You know,” he says, arching his back up off the bed in a way he knows Liam finds unbearably sexy, “Mia was conceived on the back of a moving bus in Dubai? You do know this, lad.”

Liam makes a face. “Don’t want to think about that right now,” he grumbles, as he jerks himself to further hardness.

“I’m just sayin’ there’s no wrong way to make a baby, love,” Louis murmurs, giving him a winning smile. Liam smiles back and leans down to kiss Louis deeply as he slides his cock into him.

“I know that,” Liam says softly, and starts to thrust into him, one strong hand pressed hard on the bed beside the dip of Louis’ waist and the other firmly and smoothly jerking Louis’ cock. Louis lets out a quite loud, obscene moan. He loves trying, because the goal is often to make Liam come as quickly as possible, and that means he gets to continually outdo himself on exactly how filthily vocal he can get.

He dirty talks Liam all throughout, telling him how nice he feels inside him and what a good boy he is. Most of what he says is met with appreciative groans and grunts. He gazes at Louis as he moves back and forth; Liam is one of those blokes that loves to kiss you all over and gaze into your eyes when he's in you. Louis found it to be a bit too much attention when they first got together, but he's since embraced it for how special and singularly adored it makes him feel every time Liam does him -- or even every time they suck each other off in the laundry room in a squashed Sunday half-hour between them having industry friends over for brunch and then having both their mums over for tea.

Liam comes inside of him with a groan of release and Louis pulls him close, ruffling the short hair on the back of his neck and kissing his nose and cheeks.

“We might have just made a baby,” he murmurs, smiling, and Liam laughs with excitement and wraps his arms around Louis, kissing him hard.

They dress as fast as humanly possible and race downstairs.

“I hope that was the one,” Liam says to him, as he does up the last few buttons on his shirt. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Three months of trying?” Louis says, bemused as they step into the foyer together. “Not really a while, that.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Liam murmurs. “Since… I don’t really know how it works, for men.”

“We don’t have cycles, like. So it’s harder to figure out when I’m fertile. The pills ought to help.”

“I thought you were sort of confirmed for being quite fertile,” Liam says.

“One accident at twenty-three doesn’t make me Mr Fertile, and I’m thirty now.”

“If you say it hasn’t been long, I believe you,” Liam assures him. “Just really want this to happen, Tommo.”

“I know,” Louis mutters, and he twists his wedding band. “Me too.”

“I won’t come out with you, if that’s alright,” Liam says. “Going to go put these groceries away.”

“No, you’d better not. Things’ve been sort’ve rough with him, lately.”

Liam nods. There’s a honk from the front drive, then.

“Two minutes late on the dot,” Liam announces, looking at his watch. Louis rolls his eyes and pushes him away, toward the kitchen.

“Just saying!” Liam yells over his shoulder.

Louis goes outside, stepping out into the damp front garden. Mia hops out of Zayn’s Escalade in a pink puffy jacket and runs to hug Louis, dark pigtails bouncing. Louis bends to meet her and she crashes into him, as usual.

“Hi love,” he says, squeezing her tight. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too, Daddy,” she says. “Guess what I saw at the zoo!”

“I think Zayn sent me a photo,” Louis says, and as he does, Zayn himself steps out of the car, smiling down at the pair of them. He looks pale and exhausted. Louis feels a pang of concern; Zayn hasn’t elaborated on it much yet, but he’s let on to Louis that he’s been having a hard time of late.

“I saw a polar bear!” Mia tells him, in awed excitement.

“Aye, I did see a picture of that,” Louis says, grinning at her. “Made me feel like I was there. Hey, Liam's got bananas and peanut butter in the kitchen for you.”

She beams at him and darts behind him to run in the house. The front door slams behind her. Zayn winces.

“She's got an awful door slamming habit, now,” he says.

“Well, she didn't get it from _me_ ,” Louis says, as he straightens up and folds his arms.

“You sure about that?” Zayn rejoinders. “I remember you slammin’ some doors in your time.”

“Mate, that was like, ten years ago.”

“Shit, you’re right. Really doesn’t feel like it,” Zayn says.

“No, I know,” Louis says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It's a bright day. He and Zayn squint at each other.

“You look a bit sloppy,” Zayn comments. “Forget I was comin’? I interrupt a nooner?”

“Jesus, Zayn,” Louis scoffs, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“I’m just saying, I know what you look like when you’ve just, been…” Zayn clicks his tongue off his teeth. “Y’know. That’s all.”

Louis feels uncomfortably pinned by his gaze.

“Our daughter’s like, twenty feet away,” Louis says curtly.

“She can’t hear,” Zayn says, with a rakish smile, looking Louis all over.

Zayn does this sometimes, still -- flirt with him openly. It become more common when things thawed between them, and Zayn started happily directing any lingering anger about his perceived cuckolding away from Louis and entirely toward Liam. Liam, for his part, is good enough to ignore it; he stands there gamely at birthday parties and holiday get-togethers, being as unobtrusive as possible while Zayn blows cigarette smoke at him and talks directly to Louis as if Liam isn't standing right there, wedding band gleaming on his finger.

Louis hates how Zayn's flirting makes him feel. He doesn't believe Zayn has any lingering feelings for him, so he experiences it as a cruel joke, nothing more than a jab at Liam, a mocking ghost of what he and Zayn once had, a directed effort at making him feel off-center, muddled and guilty.

Annoyed, he opens his mouth without meaning to.

“We’ve actually started tryin’ for another,” Louis says coolly. “So, yeah, you sort of did interrupt a nooner.”

This stuns Zayn into silence. He stares at Louis, looking distressed and somewhat betrayed.

“Why d’you look surprised by that?” Louis says, crossing his arms tighter over his chest, regretting having said it and having nothing else to do now but grow defensive about it. “We’ve been married for two years.”

A cool breeze whips at them, as if to remind them it’s winter on what’s otherwise a sunny and unusually nice day. Zayn’s mouth opens and nothing comes out. He glances away, hands on his hips, and shakes his head.

“Dunno,” he says shortly. “Guess I’ve just been worried about it for so long, fuckin’ pisser to see it finally come to fruition.”

“Worried?” Louis demands, outraged with this reaction to his good news. “Worried about what?”

Zayn looks at him, his eyes flinty. “You _know_ what.”

In the car, Zayn’s security shifts uneasily, hearing this quickly deteriorating conversation through the open door.

“No, maybe you ought to fill me in,” Louis retorts.

“Mia feeling like a stepchild in her own home,” Zayn says, squaring his shoulders and staring Louis down.

“She's _my_ child,” Louis exclaims. He’s hardly able to believe what he’s hearing. “She’ll never feel like a stepchild here! My mum never let _me_ feel like a stepchild!”

“Bully for her,” Zayn says nastily.

“Look, this isn't any of your business,” Louis snarls. “So watch it.”

“I've been waiting for this, you know?” Zayn says bitterly. “The day Liam would start pushin’ this issue.”

“Actually, it was _my_ idea,” Louis retorts, and he'd say it either way to protect Liam, but in this case it's true: they’ve talked about it for years, never seeming to think it was quite the right time. On their wedding day, Jay had said while winking, “He's going to get you pregnant right away, you know,” and they’d both blanched.

“Jesus Christ, you’d better not!” Louis had exclaimed to Liam, who had waved his hands in surrender.

“I won’t!”

Over time, things fell into place: their lives seemed to steadily open up and make room for another child. One morning not long before Louis’ thirtieth birthday, he had rolled over in bed and told Liam, “I want to have your baby.” Liam had looked at him, dazed, overjoyed a initially not quite willing to believe it, then brought him close and whispered “ _Yes, yes, Tommo, yes,”_ his heart going mad in his chest under Louis’ palm.

“Liam thinks of Mia as a daughter,” Louis tells Zayn. “He’d be happy with just her. I wanted to give her a sibling, and I wanted to have a baby with my husband.”

“For fucks sake, I know ‘e’s your husband!” Zayn says, pushing his dark hair back off his forehead. “Haven't got to remind me of that constantly!”

“It’d just be nice if you ever, for once, gave Liam his due!” Louis rages. “It’s been seven years, Zayn! Jesus Christ! He loves me, he loves Mia, he’s never been anything but reliable, he knows his place and is always advocating for you to me, he bites his tongue around you in spite of you baiting him --”

Zayn puts his hands up, very firmly, like he’s non-verbally begging Louis to stop talking. “I get it,” he spits, “Liam's the greatest, he's perfect, superhuman, so reliable, fantastic, great, Tommo. So, so happy for both of you. But the minute my daughter starts feelin’ pushed aside --”

“Don't plan to go and take garden variety sibling rivalry and take it as an excuse to start turning her against me an’ him,” Louis warns, sticking a finger in his face. Zayn bats it away and stares coldly at him.

“Don’t worry,” Zayn snaps. “I’ve got no interest in disruptin’ her life like that. But I'll be listening to her carefully, once that baby comes.”

Security raps hard on the car window, but otherwise doesn't intervene.

“I'm not even pregnant yet,” Louis says fiercely, “so just -- keep your shit together for now.”

“Oh, my shit’s plenty together, bruv.”

“Hey,” Liam calls from behind them.

They turn to see him leaning in the front doorway.

“You're being loud,” he says, sharply. “I had to send her upstairs. Zayn, maybe you ought to head home?”

“Yeah, maybe I ought to do that, DJ Stepdad,” Zayn cracks nastily, staggering back into the car, his mouth set hard and his eyes hollow.

Liam heaves a sigh as Zayn drives away and Louis comes back up the steps, shaking his head.

“Christ, that was rare form,” he says with relish. “Haven't seen him like that in years.”

“Okay,” Liam says gently, taking Louis by the hem of his tee, leading him back in the house and shutting the door behind him. “Let’s leave the anger out there where it belongs, ‘cos we just got the kid back after a few days, and she’s missed us, and I’m sure wants to hang out with us.”

“Or, since she’s upstairs, is totally locked onto her iPad already,” Louis says.

Liam laughs. “Well, sit down with your husband and have a drink with him, then, since we haven’t seen much of each other all weekend, either.”

“I shouldn’t drink,” Louis reminds him.

“Have a Coke,” Liam says, as they return to the kitchen and settle around the island.

Louis shakes his head. “I’ve been good about that shit,” he says. “I’m still watching my sugar. Just grab me a water.”

Liam sighs, but does as he’s asked.

“You know,” he says, closing the fridge, “you’ve been like, teetering on too thin again lately.”

This is not particularly something Louis feels like hearing right now. He shoots Liam a look. “And I’m sure you and my mum have discussed that at length, right?”

“Hey, we just love you, is all --”

“I’m fine,” Louis exclaims. “I’m happy like this, and I'm, y’know, preparin’ for the baby, is all!”

“Tommo, what does that even mean?” Liam says, exasperated.

“I’d like to gain less weight this time,” Louis mutters. Between his frustration with Zayn and his deep annoyance with this particular topic, he wants nothing more than to go outside right now, practice footie and be left alone.

“You put on a really reasonable amount,” Liam says, looking at him with that puppy-dog face that Louis hates in certain contexts. “Like, the lower end of reasonable, and then you lost it all straight away. You looked good, I promise. You wear it really well.”

Louis ignores everything he just said. “I’m not on tour this time, so I can stay as active as I like, and I plan to. And I don’t want to get shit from you or my mum about it, either.”

“Just don’t plan to overexert yourself,” Liam begs him. “Please.”

“Who would _plan_ to overexert themselves, Payno? Jesus,” Louis says, rolling his eyes as he slides off the barstool. “I’m goin’ out back.”

Liam is fast on his feet, and moves to block Louis’ exit from the kitchen. “Hey,” he says, hands on Louis’ shoulders.

“Move, love,” Louis says petulantly. He tries to lightly shove him, but Liam grounds his feet.

“It bothers me, seeing you not believe me when I tell you this shit,” Liam says fiercely. “I mean, God, it’s so hard to tell you things sometimes --”

“That’s me!” Louis yells. “Stubborn arshole! Let me _go_ , now!”

Liam releases him and drops his hands to his sides, but Louis doesn’t move. Something more powerful than his pride keeps him rooted to the spot. He looks up at Liam, doing his best to push through his haze of defiance so he can actually see his husband in front of him.

“Look,” Louis says tiredly. “This is… I have a hard time with this, you know?”

“I know,” Liam says, studying him. “I know. I’m not trying to be pushy or harsh or judgmental. It’s just it’s our _baby_ , Louis.”

“As soon as I’m pregnant, I’ll come over more sane,” Louis says. “You _know_ that. My priorities’ll change.”

“Don’t wait ‘til then to get sane,” Liam mutters, tentatively pulling him in for a hug. “Go on and have a Coke, if you really want one.”

Louis wraps his arms around Liam and sighs against his chest.

“Alright, but Coke is bad for you anyway,” Louis points out.

“Okay, Harold _…_ ”

Louis makes a noise of offended disgust and separates from him. “Please! I wouldn’t put butter in my coffee or fuckin’, like, kale in my pizza!”

“Remember,” Liam says, starting to laugh. “Last time we visited, and he said he was making pizza? And you were like, oh, sick, pizza, and then the fucking -- cauliflower crust? And whatever else was on it?”

“It was horrible!” Louis says, pulling a stricken face. “Not pizza whatsoever!”

Liam grins. “So whenever you’re getting weird, I’ll just remind you.... cauliflower pizza.”

“Perfect,” Louis tells him. He exhales and pushes his hair back. “Alright, I’m going to go hang with Mims, now, you want to join?”

Liam nods. “I’ll be in the studio for a bit, got some things to finish up."

"Right, just come find us in the back garden when you're done."

They start to part ways, and then Liam says, “Louis?”

He stops and looks back.

“Love you,” Liam mouths, tapping his chest over his heart. Louis softens, and returns the gesture.

He heads halfway up the stairs and yells to Mia. She bolts out of her room and appears at the banister, waiting expectantly. He knows it’s strange, as they aren’t related, but he swears sometimes she gets expressions that remind him very much of Liam.

“Hey, love,” he calls up. “Want to play some football with your dad?”

“Yeah!” she shouts.

“Get your sneakers on, then,” Louis says, and watches her fondly as she runs to do so.


	28. Chapter 28

LONDON, MARCH 13, 2022

“I don’t _want_ to go!” Mia shouts, and in the midst of her kicking, flailing tantrum, nails Louis right in the bollocks with one hard little foot.

He doubles over, groaning. Liam steps in and hoists Mia to her feet, then picks her up and sets her firmly down on the couch.

“You okay?” Liam says to Louis, who nods with gritted teeth and a face drained of color. Liam turns to Mia.

“You have to go,” he says, firmly. “Love, you can’t not go, okay? These are the rules, that we have you during the week and Zayn gets you on weekends. Don’t you want to see Zayn?”

“I don’t want to _go!_ ” Mia screams in his face. “I’m tired of  _leaving_!”

Though he loves her dearly, Louis is exasperated enough with his daughter that he leaves the room to get away from her, under the guise of walking off his injury.

Her behavior is made more stressful for him by the fact that he’s in a shit mood to begin with. This particular bleak Friday morning had nothing to offer him but a call from his mum informing him that his nan isn’t doing well, and yet another negative pregnancy test. Louis has half a mind to go back to bed and stay there for the rest of the day, but Nick’s invited him and Liam to a Friday the thirteenth yacht party, and they’ve been looking forward to it for weeks as a much-needed date night.

Louis hears the general din in the sitting room quiet down, and then Liam walks into the hall. He turns.

“She’s settled down. Still doesn’t want to go, though,” Liam says, and shrugs.

“Why not?” Louis demands, still on edge from the pain of being kicked in the dick.

Liam throws his hands up in exasperation. “Wants to come with us to the party. I told her it’s all grown-ups and she’d be bored, but she feels left out, y’know?”

“Well, stuff _that,_ ” Louis says, irritable. “I mean, Christ, Payno, she’s a kid, she don’t run the show. You know in France they don’t put up with this shit. Just shove the kids off in the corner with a couple of pâtés and a bottle of wine, and the adults all go in the other room and talk shit an’ fuck each other.”

Liam has a good laugh at this. “And you like that, as a parenting strategy?”

“Is there some other reason she doesn’t want to go?” Louis says, folding his arms. “Somethin’ Zayn-related? He's been a little off lately, maybe he's not giving her enough attention?”

With his head, Liam makes a sort of noncommittal to-and-fro motion. “She said to me last week that he's been tired a lot,” he says. “But she also complained that he makes her practice her times-tables, now.”

“Oh, God forbid,” Louis says, laughing.

Liam shrugs. “She’s a kid,” he says, simply.

 

*

 

They do manage get Mia calmed down before Zayn gets there, although her willingness to behave is contingent on a promise Zayn makes over the phone to take her to Kew Gardens and buy her a massive stuffed panda at the gift shop. Louis reminds himself that parenting is all about compromises.

“It must be tough for her,” Louis says quietly, as they sit in the back of the Range Rover, in their too-expensive tuxedos with their hair quiffed, listening to Zara McFarlane croon over the radio.

Liam looks over at him. “Who, Mia?”

Louis nods. “Going back and forth every weekend. I think she’s gettin’ old enough for it to bother her, y’know?”

Liam sighs. “It'd make sense.”

“I just can’t think of anything else we could do,” Louis says, and he fiddles with a cufflink.

There’s silence, except for the dulcet jazz piping in and the sound of other cars rushing by on the A1.

“Sorry,” Louis says, and he glances up at Liam, who looks quite handsome tonight and seems quietly demoralized by the start their night got off to. “This is our time to like, be fun and be a couple, and I'm just worrying about the kid.”

Liam meets his gaze and shakes his head, smiling, eyes twinkling. “Don't worry about it, love.”

“I forget how odd it is for us,” Louis continues. “How we got together when I was pregnant, and ever since then it's been the three of us, never the two… you and I never got to date, never got to be alone --”

Liam shakes his head firmly and comes over to the same side of the seats as Louis, then pours him a very small glass of champagne and puts it in his hand. Louis takes a sip.

“Louis, you know what kind of bloke I am,” Liam says to him keenly, gripping his forearm and gazing at him. “I always wanted to be married. I always -- y’know. I want unconditional love. I want loyalty. I want to come home at the end of the day and hang my hat and have our daughter run out and hug me, or try and dribble a football around my legs, whatever she does these days --”

Louis laughs and leans against Liam, enjoying the sharp woodsy smell of his cologne and the warm muscular frame of his body.

“It's the best that it's the three of us,” Liam murmurs. “I _love_ that. I do need my time alone with you, but we get plenty of that. We're rich, we've got thriving careers, great, supportive families, and we go out loads more than you like to think we do, you great big pessimist. We've just been at a sick rooftop party last month, and fucked in a hammock and drank Cristal, y’know? And then we went home to your wonderful mum and our sweet daughter, who drew a lovely picture of all of us as mermaids. What more could we ask for?”

Louis feels his mood lifting, as Liam always somehow manages to do for him.

“I think it's partly the idea of a new baby,” Louis murmurs. “Adjusting all over again.”

“We can always put off trying,” Liam says to him, sounding concerned.

“No, no,” Louis says emphatically. “No, I want another. I do. I'm way beyond ready.”

“Good, me too,” Liam says, kissing his head. “Just let yourself have fun tonight, Tommo. Remember how good things really are most days.”

 

*

 

The yacht is so stuffed to the brim with celebrities and other posh Londoners that when it takes off from the dock at ten p.m. sharp, an entire gaggle of people waiting to board in their black tie outfits are left behind to wave frantically and shout as Nick laughs at them from an upper deck.

“Sorry!” he shouts, waving his glass of champagne so it spills on the shoes of the bloke next to him. “Should have got here on time!”

Liam and Louis are barely paying attention to him; they've been flirting hard since the car and only have eyes for each other. Nick sticks his arm between them as a way of getting their attention.

“Hey, lovebirds,” he says. “Quit slobbering on each other and tell me what Harry’s been up to.”

Louis laughs. Liam is a bit drunk, now, and wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, pressing his mouth to Louis’ neck and swaying to the music. A wasted actress bumps into them and apologizes profusely.

“Everyone's so drunk already, I love it,” Nick says with relish. “So, go on, Harold updates. I haven't heard from him months.”

“He's doin’ that American spy picture,” Louis says. “Plays a department head at Interpol, I guess?”

“Have to be a pretty fuckin’ young department head,” Nick says.

Louis shrugs. “He can play a bit older, he looks mature these days.”

“You look good tonight,” Liam comments in his ear, one hand snaking around to grab his arse. Louis laughs and leans into his touch. “I love when you drink,” he says to Liam, who grins at him.

“Gross,” Nick comments. “This is just making me lonely.”

“As bad as at our wedding?” Louis says cheekily, winking at him, referring to the fact that after the reception, Nick had tried to crawl into bed with Harry and been soundly rebuffed. Nick glares and swigs straight from the bottle he's clutching.

Around them, the night breeze is cool, the sound is deafening and the crush of people is intense. Louis would love to eavesdrop at this party, but there's too many people talking at once, and Liam's mouth lingering on his throat as his hand goes up Louis’ thigh is distracting in the best way.

“What are the band’s plans?” Nick shouts over the chatter, wind and music.

“Grimshaw,” Louis yells back. “Go get laid, will you?”

“I can't ask a question?” Nick says, pretending to be hurt.

“You're so fixated, mate! There’s a massive party going on!”

“I hate all of these people,” Nick says, with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “And I haven't seen you lot in ages.”

“Well, we just released the seventh last year, so we're having another break,” Louis says, his voice growing defensive, as it tends to do on this topic. “You know, we've all got solo shit going on, I'm managing quite a few bands, now. Harry's got his acting, Niall’s managing too, and Liam's always busy with all of these projects… We’re tryin’ to just let the albums come as they will.”

“How zen,” Nick says sarcastically. “I assume the seventh’ll be the last one, then.”

Louis snorts, blasé. “That's what you said about the fifth,” he points out.

Liam seems to be getting frustrated that they aren't leaving Nick and moving to a more discreet spot, and so he straightens up and actually joins the conversation, his hair mussed and his lips red from his assault on Louis’ neck.

“Coming up for air?” Nick says with a grin, then offers him the bottle of champagne. Liam takes a swig.

“So tell me about your daughter,” Nick says. “The Zayn thing. How does that work?”

“He's got weekends,” Louis says, moving closer to Liam, whose grip on him tightens.

The boat hits some chop, and they all sway on their feet. A half moon glitters over the Thames, spilling a silvery reflection of itself out across the water.

“Right,” Nick says. “And all the holidays?”

“Huh?” Louis says, baffled. “No?”

“Not _your_ holidays,” Nick says, arching an eyebrow. “Zayn's Muslim? I assume he takes her for Muslim holidays?”

Nerves spike in Louis. He hasn't had a chance to discuss this with Liam, yet.

“Actually, yeah, he wants to take her to his parents’ for Eid, this year,” Louis says. “That'd be the first time.”

Liam glances at him in surprise.

Nick whistles. “Alright, alright,” he says. “Going to have her do Ramadan, an’ all that?”

Louis shakes his head. “She's six, so no, not fasting quite yet.”

“But will she?”

“Depends what she wants,” Louis says, shrugging.

Liam is now staring at him in a way he doesn't particularly like.

“Nick,” Louis says, pulling the champagne out of Liam’s hands and passing it back to him. “It's been good talkin’ to you. If you want an update on Harry, just fucking call him, alright?” Nick rolls his eyes at this. “We’ll see you later.”

Nick waves bye-bye with a knowing look, like he's fully aware he just stirred shit between them. Louis’ takes Liam hard by the hand and drags him away. He leads him through the most chaotic areas of the party, past people who are clearly coked out and through throngs of smaller groups, waving to people here and there until they finally reach the upstairs cabin.

Louis knocks on the door to the first room he finds. There's no response, and he opens the door to find a sitting room with large tinted windows overlooking the side of the boat, and a pair of young actors about to screw on a couch as a plasma in front of them displays one of those fireplace videos.

“Sorry, kids. Should have locked the door,” Louis says apologetically, and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. They gather their things and hurry out behind him, chagrined.

Liam pulls the door shut and flips the lock.

“Why'd you drag me up here?” he says, petulant.

“I saw you get all all stroppy about the Ramadan thing,” Louis says, folding his arms. “If we're going to discuss that, let’s air it out now.”

Liam shrugs, unsteady on his feet from alcohol, his irises dark and unfocused. “Fine.”

“You don't like it,” Louis says sharply.

Liam’s eyes narrow in confusion. “What, _Ramadan_? Like -- I'm a racist, now?”

“No!” Louis says, frustrated. “Just -- you get nervy when she goes to visit Zayn’s family to begin with --”

“How wouldn't I?” Liam bursts out, his restrained anger apparent. “They hate me over there, can't bite their tongues about me! Course it makes me nervous!”

“Liam, _shh_ \--”

“It's just -- it hurts to think she'll be over there for more and more holidays when she hasn't spent a single Christmas with _my_ family, she hardly gets to see Nic or Ruth’s kids because they live so far now, and on Christmas we fucking split her between you and your family and him and his -- meanwhile, I spend like, maybe half a day with my own family, and they don't even get to see her at all! I mean, that sucks for me, Tommo!”

Liam’s entire body relaxes after he’s gotten all this out, like he’s purged himself.

Louis is absolutely bowled over by his torrent of emotion.

“You never said anything!” he exclaims, baffled. “It's been like, three years of that arrangement!”

“I liked the old way,” Liam says, miserably. “When she was little… I liked just having people come by our house.”

“It isn't reasonable,” Louis says, his body tensing up with frustration, “Zayn’s family shouldn’t have to all come over to ours, and anyway, my nan can't travel that far anymore, my mum’s got to pack little kids and teenagers all into one car --”

Liam throws his hands up in the air, at a loss.

“It isn't as if your family and mine don't talk shit on 'im,” Louis points out. “Or you an’ me, for that matter!”

“Not in her earshot,” Liam argues.

“Oh, Liam,” Louis groans, hands on his hips. “Don't be naive, babe. She knows, trust me.”

Liam gets a dark look on his still-boyish face that's painful for Louis to see. It's one of frustrated devastation, like he's allowing himself to be dragged down by the demon that often plagues Louis -- the hard fact that this situation will never be ideal, that sometimes it seems downright impossible, that their sweet and precious little daughter will always be yanked in two opposite directions by the man who fathered her and the one who raised her.

“Love, you're drunk,” Louis says sympathetically, and comes over to him.

Liam looks as though he might cry. “I just want to be family to her,” he says, his voice raspy.

“You are,” Louis assures him, wrapping his arms around Liam's neck. “She’s yours. Every night you stayed up with her when she was sick, or helped her with her homework, or when you taught her to ride her bike, like -- she's yours, Liam, she always will be, she's your daughter, just like she's mine and Zayn’s --”

“I know, I know,” Liam murmurs, pressing his lips to Louis’ hairline and trailing his fingers in his hair. “I do know.”

"We'll figure out a compromise, alright?" Louis says to him softly, gazing at him. "There's a way for us all to be happy here, we'll find it, but you've got to tell me these things, you've got to tell me when you're hurting like this..."

Liam ducks down to meet his lips, and they begin to kiss passionately. Louis likes drunken Liam; he gets more urgent and aggressive than normal, more like the alpha he is. He drags Louis down onto the couch with him and Louis straddles him, unbuttoning both their jackets and trousers and loosening his own tie.

Liam doesn't even attempt to fully undress either of them, instead just shimmying his own trousers down to his knees and yanking Louis’ down far enough that he can begin to finger him.

They kiss deeply, Louis rolling his hips against Liam and Liam with one hand wrapped around his waist, settled against the flare of his hips with his palm pressed hard to Louis’ lower back.

“Louis,” Liam moans hoarsely, nuzzling his neck. “God, I want to be in you…”

“An’ I want you in me,” Louis purrs, grinding down on Liam’s hard cock.

“Fuck, fuck,” Liam breathes, kissing him. “Keep talking, so I can actually come.”

“You'd better come, whiskey dick,” Louis teases him, and he reaches back and helps Liam’s job of fingering him by guiding his hand. “‘Cos we _are_ tryin’ to make a baby here, mate.”

“I know, I know,” Liam breathes, and he starts to guide his cock into Louis. The muscles inside of Louis clench pleasantly and he lets out a loud, desperate moan.

“Put a baby in me,” he murmurs, sliding his hands into Liam's hair as Liam begins to pound up into him. “Do it, do it, come in me, make me pregnant, do it --”

“Oh, _Louis_ , God, fuck, I want to so bad --”

Louis grabs Liam hard by the hair and yanks his head back, staring into Liam’s liquor-dark eyes in the middle of his flushed, rapturous face. He leans forward, getting Liam even deeper, and gazes at him as he grinds down on his dick. Liam moans with absolute pleasure.

“Harder,” Louis whines, “harder --”

Liam sits up and, one hand under Louis, moves them both so Louis is laid flat on his back against the couch. Then he begins to pound into him again, much harder. Louis gives a series of his best, most musical moans to urge him on.

For the first time in a long time, Louis comes into his hand with Liam still inside of him. He lies there gasping in ecstasy, rocked up and down on the couch by the force of Liam’s thrusts, then reaches out and wipes his come off on a magazine that's laying on the coffee table so neither of them stain their suits.

Liam sinks his fingers into Louis’ hair and tightens his grip to the point where Louis is in pain, but he nods him on, loving it. Finally Liam presses their foreheads together and sighs, then gives a few more lackluster thrusts, and Louis knows he's finished.

They lie there for a few minutes, kissing and stroking each other's hair, then get up and help fix each other's rumpled suits and terribly disheveled appearances.

“We look beyond fucked,” Louis comments. “Everyone’ll know.”

Liam reaches out and takes his hand. “Who cares?” he says, grinning. “We're boring old marrieds, y'know? No one’s watching us, anymore.”

 

LONDON, APRIL 29, 2022

Louis very quietly opens the door of the ensuite bathroom and pads over to their bed, where Liam is still sound asleep and snoring softly.

His entire body thrums with excitement as he slips back into bed beside him, staring at his husband’s sweet face in repose. He wants nothing better than to see Liam’s reaction to what he’s got to tell him.

“Payno,” he whispers, and shakes him.

Liam stirs and snorts himself awake. “What?” he says, blinking hard. “What is it?”

“Hi,” Louis says softly. He isn’t sure how to begin. He just looks into Liam’s eyes for a moment, as Liam’s brow furrows with confusion.

“What is it?” Liam says, his voice still thick with sleep. “It’s so early.”

Louis’ heart beats fast in his chest. It feels like a bird is trapped behind his ribs.

“Aye, I just sort of woke up,” he murmurs. “Don’t know why. And... I just got this feeling like I should go test.”

It takes Liam a moment to twig. He sits up on the bed, still squinting at Louis, and rubs his eyes with his fists like a little boy. “You…”

Then one of his hands shoots out, and he seizes Louis’ wrist. His entire face lights up with a sort of disbelieving delight. Louis begins to laugh with joy.

“You aren’t,” Liam says, beaming. “You aren’t. No way. Tommo!”

“I am,” Louis confirms. “Apparently, anyway.”

Liam gently tackles him backward onto the bed, squeezing him. They wrap their arms around each other, laughing like madmen, and kiss all over each other’s faces.

“I can’t believe it,” Liam murmurs in his ear.

“Don’t get too excited yet,” Louis tells him, valiantly trying to push down his own intense enthusiasm. “It’s… y’know, it’s very early days.”

“I know, I know,” Liam says, stroking his hair and gazing at him. “But just knowing it could happen for us… that we did make something, after all that trying…”

Louis’ breath catches in his throat. He gives Liam a bright, wobbly smile. “Don’t get me wrong,” he says softly, “it’s the best thing news I've gotten in ages.”

Liam beams back at him. “You ought to go to the doctor,” he says. “I’ll come. We’ll go today. I’ll drive.”

Louis laughs very hard at this. “Love, it’s Saturday.”

“Shit!” Liam exclaims. “Monday, then.”

“I’ve got meetings all day.”

“Cancel ‘em!”

“I can’t, lad. Look, we’ll go Wednesday, alright?” Louis cups Liam’s face in his hands, stroking his jaw. “We’ll go Wednesday.”

Liam nods effusively, and they go back to holding each other. Louis begins to drift back off to sleep. It’s only about seven in the morning; he’s got another hour before Mia gets up and wakes them by crashing through the house to go watch cartoons in their home theater, and two before he’s got to start taking calls and answering emails.

“What is it about this time of year,” he murmurs to Liam. “I’m always tellin’ you I’m pregnant in the springtime…”

Liam laughs, low and rumbly. “I love you,” he says: slowly, like he relishes saying it.

“Love you too,” Louis tells him, drowsy. Liam’s hand goes to his stomach, and stays there as they fall back asleep.


	29. Chapter 29

LONDON, MAY 18, 2022

Liam can scarcely believe he gets out of the house without sharp-eyed Louis twigging that there’s something up. He’s awkward and goofy, hemming and hawing and dropping things, and he keeps stupidly repeating his lie that he’s going downtown to polish up some tracks.

Louis, though, is engrossed in getting Mia ready for school and pays him no mind. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, as he attempts to fill out a consent form for a school trip and butter toast simultaneously. “Have a good day at work, give us a kiss, love.”

Liam comes around the island and kisses him on the lips, which he usually doesn’t do in front of Mia. Louis seems pleasantly surprised. Liam’s hand goes to Louis’ stomach, despite that for the moment it’s still as flat as ever. They exchange a conspiratorial smile.

“Gross!” Mia exclaims from her seat. “No kissing!”

“Aye, get out of here, ya pervert,” Louis says fondly, swatting Liam on his arse.

Liam goes over to Mia and kisses her apologetically atop the head as she plays around with her cereal.

“Good morning, Daddy,” she chirps to him, smiling. He tousles her hair.

“Good morning, love,” Liam says back. He thinks one final time about pulling Louis aside and telling him the truth, but he knows Louis would try to stop him, and he can’t have that.

“I’m going!” he says, snatching a piece of toast from the pile Louis has constructed and holding it in his teeth as he throws his jacket on and heads out the door.

 

*

 

Zayn is between places right now, or so Liam has learned from Louis. Liam isn't welcome inside doors of any of Zayn's homes. Louis nearly always picks Mia up or drops her off.

Despite this rule, things had been steadily thawing between Liam and Zayn for years: the recently-broken treaty between them had been hard-won. It had taken Liam countless demonstrations of good faith over the years to prove to Zayn he isn't trying to push him out of Mia’s life. They had to run into each other over and over again at industry parties, events and functions before Zayn would even acknowledge him, which the tabloids had had great fun with. ZAYN GIVES PAYNE COLD SHOULDER AT GRAMMYS: ONE DIRECTION DADDY DRAMA CONTINUES.

Ever since Zayn found out they were trying (or TTC, as Louis likes to say to mock the denizens of those mommy boards he secretly loves to read. “Can’t, lad, I'm TTC,” he would say cheerfully, whenever Liam asked him to help lift something heavy or let Mia play horsey with him instead of Liam, for once) all of Liam’s hard work to broker peace with him seems to have gone up in smoke.

Liam refuses to let this stand. There are very few things he hates to see wasted more than his own hard work.

Louis had said that Zayn sold his old house in London, and is currently living in a flat deeper in the city while he has a larger place renovated. Liam paid attention to this, and later went snooping in his GPS to find Zayn’s new address.

When Paddy pulls up, he glances over at Liam with concern.

“Are you…” he trails off delicately. “Is this wise, kiddo? The two of you haven't talked properly in about seven years.”

“I know,” Liam says, with a lump in his throat. He always manages to forget just how long it's been. “I can't have him being nasty to Louis about this baby just because he resents me. Mia’s getting older, she'll pick up on this sort of thing…”

“I'd be shocked if she hasn't already,” Paddy comments.

Liam digs a thumb into the trigger point over his brow, which has been spasming intermittently ever since he developed TMJ a few years back. His dentist had instructed him to wear a mouthguard; Louis’ therapist apparently thinks the problem is more down to him internalizing his emotions.

Remembering this, Liam adds, “I also just need him to stop being so cold to me, because, like… I care about him, and this has honestly been killing me for a long time now.”

If he allowed himself, right now he could give himself over to the sense of hopelessness he has about his relationship with Zayn, turn tail and go home. Instead he waves to Paddy and hops out of the Range Rover, walking into the lobby of Zayn's building.

“Can you, um,” Liam says, twiddling his thumbs a bit and inhaling. “Can you buzz Zayn Malik in the penthouse, and tell him Liam Payne’s here to see him?”

The bloke at the front desk seems surprised-- maybe he reads the Sun -- but he complies. Liam spends a few moments wondering if he'll even be allowed up, and then the man waves him on toward the elevator and he heads in with surprise.

The elevator drops him off right inside of Zayn’s flat. Zayn isn't at the door to greet him. Liam steps inside and glances around the loft, which is spacious, a little dark and very sparsely decorated. Zayn is perched cat-like on a futon in the living room to the right. He flips through a music magazine, not looking at him.

Liam comes over and takes a seat in a very rigid antique chair that sits opposite the couch. He stares at Zayn intently, until Zayn puts the magazine down.

“Hey,” Liam says.

Zayn immediately stands. “Want somethin’? Tea? Coffee?”

He says this with the enthusiasm and warmth of a prison officer.

“Water,” Liam says. “Thanks. Trying to cut down on caffeine.”

“Is that a good idea?” Zayn says, returning to him and tossing an Evian into his lap. “Heard you're busy lately.”

“I'm sort of rushing things through right now, so I can take some time off,” Liam says, playing with the wrapper on the bottle. “That's actually got to do with what I came to talk to you about.”

“Oh,” Zayn says warily, lacing his fingers together. “So you know?”

Liam looks up at him, puzzled. “Know what?”

Zayn’s face changes. He grows edgy and anxious. “Shit. I thought… never mind.”

“Thought what?” Liam says, his dread growing.

Zayn looks embarrassed, which is not an expression Liam often sees anymore on his handsome, vulpine face.

“I've mentioned this to Louis a few weeks back,” Zayn says. “I thought maybe he'd told you, and that… well, you and I’ve got industry people in common, thought one of ‘em dropped a dime on me to you.”

Liam is baffled. “What are you talking about?”

Zayn bites the inside of his lip and looks wan. He doesn't meet Liam’s gaze.

“I'm goin’ into rehab,” he says quietly.

Liam feels as upended as he would if the rickety antique chair he's on had been pulled out from under him.

“ _What_?” he says, incredulous, staring at Zayn.

“I can't believe Louis didn't say anythin’ to you,” Zayn says, shrinking back slightly. “I asked him not to yet, but like -- I thought he’d do it anyway --”

“Wait, you _told_ him you're going to rehab?” Liam demands.

“No, just told him I was considerin’ it,” Zayn says, shrugging. “He was supportive. I think he was sort of shocked my drinking’s gotten that bad.”

Liam shares in that shock. He would have never guessed that Zayn was drinking too much, but suddenly he recalls confusing behavior makes more sense in hindsight: how Zayn has seemed pale and ill for months now, how his moods have swung around worse than ever lately, how Mia has reported back to them after some weekends with things that concerned them, like _Daddy seems tired_ , or _Daddy looks sad._ Her words ring in his head as he sits there.

“It's not -- it isn't like, fucking up my ability to take care of Yas, or summat,” Zayn rushes to say vehemently, like he’s afraid Liam will automatically assume so. “I don't even get drunk anymore, really. That's the problem. It's gotten to a point that I sort of -- I just drink throughout the day, like habit. I don't drink at all when I've got her, on weekends or any other time I do. But it's been getting slowly worse over a long time… I'm so fuckin’ scared it’s gonna bleed over. I've been tempted a few times now, t’ drink while I've had her. And I get sick when I stop, now. I always end up sick by Sunday. So... that's why I'm going, honestly, it's because of her.”

“For how long?” Liam says, staring at him, mind-boggled.

“Seventy days,” Zayn says.

Liam sits back in his seat. He feels himself mentally flailing, grasping blindly for a way to pull himself up out of his shock. There’s anger at Louis for not mentioning this to him prickling around the edges of his consciousness, but he pushes it down until he can fully digest the news.

“Mate, I'm sorry,” he says, genuinely.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about,” Zayn says. He sounds bitter, but clearer-minded than he's been in a while. “It happens.”

“I'm glad you're going,” Liam says honestly.

“I wanted to apologize, too,” Zayn says. “I've been… I dunno. I've been a prick to you for years. A lot of it I've felt was justified. But it hasn't solved anything, in the end. It's just going to start alienatin’ my daughter and makin’ her feel like she's got to pick sides. I don't want to make her pick you over me, or pick me and resent me later for it. So I want to figure out a way to make this work, between you an’ me.”

Liam is massively relieved by this. “So do I,” he says.

“What’d you come to say to me, then?” Zayn says, looking up, clasping his tattooed hands together.

Liam remembers, then, and feels terribly guilty.

“Louis is pregnant,” he says hesitantly.

A microexpression of devastation flickers over Zayn’s face, and then his features go back to forced blankness.

“Congrats,” he says stiffly. “How far along?”

“Nine weeks, about.”

Zayn nods a little longer than necessary. “Cool,” he says.

Liam feels words bubbling up in his throat and spewing forth. “You still have feelings for him,” he blurts out, without intending to, without even thinking the preliminary thoughts that are usually necessary to induce speech. He sits, shocked with himself.

Zayn looks at him, his eyes hard and bright.

“Kick me while I'm down, yeah?” he murmurs, more sad than anything else.

Liam is full of a strange and prideful adrenaline. Truth-telling is intoxicating.

“We can’t fix things between us if we don’t talk about this,” Liam says, pleading with him.

Zayn scoffs, eyes bright, lip curled, shaking his head.

“He doesn't even _know_ ,” Liam says, his voice wobbly and high-pitched with the intensity of what he's saying. “He has no idea how long you've been carrying a torch for him, how long you've been secretly wishing he'd leave me for you, that he'd come to his senses one day and bring his daughter to you and you could be a happy little family.”

Zayn shakes his head. “You think I don't know what a fantasy that's always been?” he snaps. “You think I don't know it wouldn't even work?”

“But you've wanted it anyway!” Liam cries, his voice rent open by hurt. “And punished me because of it!”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ ‘ave!”

They look at each other, disgusted and horrified by what they've become to each other.

“It's so hard for me to even be around you,” Zayn says throatily. “So hard, like. You don't even know.”

“Why can't you just make it work with someone?” Liam demands. “D’you know how long you were on top of your industry, how good-looking you are -- you could have nearly anyone you like, anyone in the entire world?”

“I know,” Zayn snaps. “It isn't as if I haven't been happy with other people over the years! Christ...”

They sit for a few moments, with nothing to say. Liam clutches his bottle of Evian like it’s tethering him to the planet.

“What do you care, Payno,” Zayn says, wearily. “You won. He's yours. ‘E’s gonna have your baby, and you'll be there for the whole thing just like you were there for Yas, and I'll be in rehab, telling some dodgy shrink everything I've just told you so they can pretend to be sad an’ then hand me off some Prozac.”

“Let go of him,” Liam tells him, his voice hard. “Just let go of him. For your sake and mine, and his, and Mia's, even.”

Zayn runs his fingers through his hair and sighs.

“I mean it, Zayn. Do you want it to be okay between us or not?” Liam says, studying him. “Do you want her not to have to pick sides?”

Zayn nods, hand pressed to his face, eyes closed. “I do. Yeah. I really do, mate.”

“Then…”

“You know what's shit about this,” Zayn mutters. “I lost two of my best mates. Two of the only people in the world who know the sort of hell I went through, those five years in that fuckin’ band. Who understand how it did my head in.”

“I'm still here,” Liam says, his throat tight with emotion. “I've been here. Any time you needed me, man.”

“I couldn't,” Zayn mutters. “I just couldn't. Still can’t.”

Liam swallows over the bitter disappointment in his throat.

“You've got Harry and Niall,” he points out.

Zayn laughs. “Yeah… I don’t, no.”

“What are you talking about?”

Zayn gives him a sidelong glance, then sighs deeply, rubbing at his beard.

“Don't tell Louis this,” he says. “Like, I mean it.”

“Okay,” Liam agrees, eager to be able to perform a gesture of goodwill toward him.

“Harry and I got together for a while a few years back, when we were both in LA,” Zayn says, staring at the floor. “That time right after you two got married, actually, when I wasn't around."

Liam sucks in a breath.

"An’ it was, like… you don't need the details, but it ended with a fight and ‘im chuckin’ a shoe at my head. Neither of ‘em have talked to me since. So, no. I really don't have ‘em.”

Liam slides back in his seat, his keys jingling in his pocket. He looks away from Zayn, his eyes not landing on anything in particular.

“Don't get it twisted like I'm blamin’ you that my shit’s a mess,” Zayn says heavily. “And if anythin’, if my life's been sort of a wreck these last ten years, I got loads of money and sick music out of it, and a fantastic daughter, so it ain't all that bad.”

“Don't be hard on me,” Liam says, sounding small even to himself. “That's all I'm asking. Don't be hard on Louis when you get back, because of the baby. Don't punish us for living our lives.”

Zayn shakes his head. “I won't,” he says. “I give you my word on that. It'll be tough for me, I'm not gonna lie, but like -- I won't.”

“Can I hug you?” Liam says, his voice rough with emotion. “Please? I haven't had a hug from you since before you left the band, d’you know that? I've missed you, man.”

Zayn looks up at him, eyes glimmering, and he swallows. “Yeah, mate,” he says. “Bring it in.”

Liam comes over to him and they embrace, clapping each other hard on the back.

“You're good to him,” Zayn murmurs, very quietly. “You're good to my daughter. I hate it, but... it means something to me, mate, that I know they wake up and go to bed every day safe with you… I haven’t forgotten who you are, what you’re like. I haven’t forgotten how good to me you always were, back in the band.”

Liam’s breath catches in his throat. “Zayn,” he says, overcome.

“Shh, shh… Look, all I’m sayin’ is -- anyone else’d done this to me, I’d worry night and day about my daughter, I’d be scared they’d walk out on ‘er and Louis. It’s a double-edged sword, but like… I don’t ever worry about you. You know?”

Liam could really start crying, then. He hugs Zayn harder instead.

 

*

 

When Liam returns home, he finds it difficult to hide how shaken he is. Louis is on a conference call in the sitting room, and he looks at Liam in confusion, mutes his phone and asks, “Why’re you back so soon?”

Liam just shakes his head and keeps walking, wanting to get in the shower. Suddenly Louis is upon him and wheeling him around, staring straight into his eyes with concern.

“What's up?” he says. “You look so weird, what is it?”

Liam swallows. “I don't want to upset you,” he says, “with the baby --”

Louis rolls his eyes and pushes up the sleeves of his button-down. “I'm not going to miscarry out of _surprise_ , lad. What is it?”

Liam studies Louis’ pretty, aging face, with laugh lines around his blue eyes and faded freckles from sun damage after years of tanning.

“What?” Louis demands. “You're frightenin’ me, now, actually.”

“I went to see Zayn,” Liam admits, shrinking a bit from his own admission.

Louis’ mouth falls open. “What, so you’ve gone barmy on me?” he says, incredulous.

“I wanted to talk to him,” Liam says patiently, “since you're pregnant, I wanted to know he wouldn't be difficult about it --”

Louis takes him by the sleeve and leads him back into the sitting room, where his conference call continues as soft background noise. “I'm on mute, but I've got to sort of monitor this... Keep goin’.”

They settle on the couch together.

“So you lied to me,” Louis says, flabbergasted. “This morning. You _never_ lie to me.”

“I'm sorry,” Liam says, feeling like scum. “I just didn't want you to know. Thought you'd stop me.”

Louis shrugs. “I probably would’ve, but you shouldn't have fuckin’ lied to me!”

“I know --”

“And you went and you --” Louis shakes his head, uncomprehending. “You told _Zayn_ I’m _pregnant_? Without askin’ me?”

“I'm sorry,” Liam repeats, and tries to reach out to him, but Louis gives him a look and rebuffs his touch.

Hurt, Liam says, “You know, you didn't tell me he'd mentioned _rehab_ to you!”

Louis’ head whips up in surprise. “Wait, he told you about that?”

“He's _going_!” Liam exclaims, gesturing expansively. “Zayn's going to rehab!”

Louis looks beyond dismayed at this. “God,” he mutters, ashen, one hand going to his forehand and the other idly pressing high up on his stomach, under his ribs. “I didn't say anything yet ‘cos I wasn't sure he really _would,_ y’know? Thought I might have to make him… For how long?”

“Seventy days.”

Louis shakes his head in disbelief. “Fuck. What do we tell Mia?”

“I don't know,” Liam says, feeling awful about how upset Louis looks right now. He strokes his arm. “I’m sorry… this is a lot.”

“No, it's alright,” Louis murmurs. “I'm just already tired today. Can't keep any food down, I've got like, acid -- whatever. Acid thing.”

“Want me to make you some soup?”

Louis nods. “That'd be great, Payno. I should get back to this call.”

Liam stands up and leans over to kiss him on the forehead. Louis wraps an arm around him.

“Liam,” he says intently. “Love, angel. Don't you ever fuckin’ lie to me about where you're going, alright?”

“I won't,” Liam swears to him passionately. “You know I never do. But don't keep serious things about Zayn from me, alright?”

Louis says nothing for a moment, and just strokes his back.

“Deal,” he finally says. “Let’s leave it at that.”


	30. Chapter 30

LONDON, JULY 2, 2022

“We’re recording, only personnel and artists are allowed back here --” Liam’s assistant Grace glances up as she recites this canned spiel, and realizes it’s Louis. “Oh, Mr Tomlinson! Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“No worries, love,” he assures her. “Is he in the booth?”

“Yes, he’s with talent -- just go right on back.”

Louis gives her a quick smile and quickly slips past her, a man on a mission. He ignores the red light over the booth door and enters.

“No, it’s great, Jordan,” Liam is saying into the mic. “You’re on fire today, mate. Just spit a bit harder on that second verse, maybe? It’s a great verse, so give it its --”

Liam notices Louis waiting at the door, and his face lights up.

“You good, lima bean?” Juicy J says over the mic.

“I’m great! It’s just my husband’s here, so let’s all take five,” Liam says.

Louis steps close to Liam and waves through the window. Liam pulls him into his lap.

“Louis!” Juicy calls, as he and his entourage disperse for their break. “How’s it hanging?”

Louis leans over the mic. “Crooked and to the left,” he says. Juicy cracks up.

Liam runs his hand up and down Louis’ back, absentmindedly doting on him. When they’re finally alone, Louis slings his arms around Liam’s neck and looks at him.

“Hi,” Liam says, smiling. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Tommo?”

“So,” Louis says, fiddling with Liam’s collar. “Remember how I made that big fuss over not wanting to know the sex this time?”

“I do,” Liam says, nodding.

“Well, I was full of shit,” Louis says, with a mischievous grin. “Just wanted to surprise you.”

Liam gapes at him, and then laughs. “You little bastard!”

“I went and found out this mornin’,” Louis chirps

“ _Without_ me?” Liam seems genuinely disappointed. “Oh, I would have wanted to go…!”

“No, but it’s more fun for me this way,” Louis assures him. “‘Cos now I get to tell you, and I already know, so I get to appreciate your reaction.”

Liam rolls his eyes in fond amusement. “Fi-ine,” he says, begrudgingly, and looks up at him with an expectant expression. Louis is thrumming with excitement and can hardly sit still. Liam does a drum roll with his hands on the bottom of the audio mixer, and Louis laughs.

“We are…” he begins, “having…”

He takes a long pause, and Liam drums harder in exasperation.

“A…”

“Out with it!”

Louis leans forward and kisses Liam, biting his bottom lip, then draws back far enough that he can look at Liam. Liam goes a bit cross-eyed, gazing back at him.

“We’re having a boy,” he whispers. “We’re going to have a son.”

Liam’s face completely lights up. He pulls Louis flush against him -- so forcefully that the rolling chair they’re piled into tips a bit, and they both grab the table -- and kisses him hard, squeezes him, then takes Louis by the shoulders and gazes in wonder at him, drinking him in.

“A _boy_ ,” Liam says, hushed and reverent.

“A boy,” Louis confirms, beaming. “Very healthy boy. Who officially isn't twins, thank God.”

He takes Liam’s hand, and brings it to the curve of his belly.

“A boy,” Liam says, again, still not sounding quite like he believes it. He gazes down at their hands. “There’s a boy in there? Our boy?”

“That’s what I’m tellin’ you, Payno, yes,” Louis says warmly, and kisses his forehead.

Liam puts up a finger and says, “Get up a sec?”

Louis obligingly stands, and Liam goes into the room behind the booth. Louis waits, confused, until Liam returns with two bottles in one hand and two champagne glasses in the other.

“Ta-da!” Liam says, triumphantly. “I have these for a special occasion… like if one of my artists is here when they find out they’ve been nommed for a Grammy, or something. But this is more important, I think.”

“Do I get fake bubbly?” Louis says, pouting.

“Dom for me, sparkling water for you,” Liam says regretfully. He pops the cork on the champagne and allows the foam to run all down over his arm.

“That’s such shit,” Louis comments, as he takes the sparkling water and pours himself a large glass anyway.

“But look at it this way, you get to be pregnant,” Liam says, pouring his own glass.

Louis’s head snaps up, eyes flashing. “I _get_ to be pregnant?”

Liam grimaces sheepishly. “Toast!” he says, quickly. “To my wonderful husband, the football king of One Direction and the best talent manager in the northern hemisphere.”

“On the planet,” Louis corrects him, and they clink glasses and drink.

“And another toast,” Liam says, with a twinkly-eyed smile. “To our baby, who had better be a musical prodigy, or we’ll disown him by his fifth birthday.”

“Hey! …We’ll wait ‘til he’s ten, at least.”

They grin at each other, blissfully happy.

“I ought to let you get back to work,” Louis says, apologetic. “It’s been more like ten minutes…”

“No, stay,” Liam whines, wrapping an arm around him and leading him back to the desk. “Is Mia with the nanny?”

“Until four, aye.”

“Then stay,” Liam murmurs to him, rubbing his hand over Louis’ belly. “I’ll even actually pull up another chair for you, if you like.”

Louis kisses him on his stubbly cheek. “You spoil me rotten, you gentleman,” he teases.

 

*

 

“Louis!” Simon calls from across the office floor.

Louis stops in his tracks. He’s only stopped in at work to briefly check on a few ongoing projects. He hasn't seen Simon in a few months; he's become a rarer and rarer sight at Louis’ management company in recent years. He seems to only pop up now when he needs to fluff his own ego by being surrounded by Louis’ success.

“Hey,” he says genially, as Simon makes his way over.

Simon brings him in for a hug, which he stiffly returns. A passing employee gives them a sideways glance.

“Let's move this into my office,” Louis says, and leads the way.

Once they're there, Simon dawdles around, staring out the large corner window and examining the photos Louis has got around. Louis sits behind his desk, fingers laced, body language closed off.

“So,” Simon says, finally. “What's this business with you not taking on Renee Winthrop as a client?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “She's a massive handful, I've heard. From many people, including yourself.”

“You've dealt with massive handfuls before,” Simon points out.

“Not when I'm comin’ off an audit,” Louis counters. “We just got that resolved last month, it's been a bit hectic around here.”

“Is it because you're pregnant, now?” Simon shoots back at him. “Or maybe because your other baby daddy’s in rehab, so you feel the need to be home more?”

Louis isn't surprised; he knew something of this nature was coming. He's offended, anyway.

“Neither,” he says, icily.

“Because I handpicked her for you,” Simon says, scratching his nose. “You would be a perfect mentor for her.”

“Why?” Louis says, baffled. He doesn't know much about this girl, other than that she's a nominally talented X Factor flop who's a pain in the arse, who Simon desperately wanted to package for sale but couldn't get her through enough rounds to.

“She's an omega with that intense competitive drive, that cutthroat pop star quality,” Simon says, looking wistful. “It isn't too common. You had it. Unfortunately, never used it as an artist in your own right…”

“Glad you think of going into your end of the business is such a waste,” Louis says, drily, ignoring the sting of his words.

“If you hadn't gotten pregnant, are you telling me you wouldn't have pursued a solo career?” Simon says, staring him down.

“I am tellin’ you that, aye,” Louis says, his throat getting tight. “I didn't have the voice for it, and I didn’t want it besides.”

“Alright, well, forgive me if I don't believe you, Louis,” Simon says, rolling his eyes.

“How many times do you have to punish me for havin’ Mia?” Louis snaps. “A hundred? A thousand? And now again, now that I'm married and stable and have a desk job? I'm still disappointing to you? Jesus Christ, Simon. It isn't fair.”

“I don't want you to turn Renee down just because you haven't got the bandwidth for her,” Simon says shortly.

“Admit it, this isn't about her, it's about me.”

“Well, _fine_ , Louis,” Simon says, aggrieved. He stands up and goes to the window again, hands on his hips. “Yes, I wanted differently for you. You've done very well for yourself despite that setback, but you closed off certain paths for yourself so early on.”

Louis’ heart thumps hard in his chest with anger.

“You people are properly the worst,” he tells him, with venom.

“You are _you people_ ,” Simon says lightly.

Louis shakes his head. “I don't see talented young artists as cattle. Maybe it's ‘cos I actually _was_ one… not so much for yourself, or half the people in this racket.”

“Oh, more than half,” Simon says, amused. “The vast majority of us are talentless cranks, you know that. Fine, don't take her on. Someone else will. Someone who won't get as much out of her. But look, Louis… I have got children, myself. I understand needing to be home with your family, with all that’s going on. I just think you need someone to prod you sometimes, to make you see what's important.”

“I really just can’t take a new, high-needs client on,” Louis says, looking defiantly up at Simon, his hands settled protectively over his the warm curve of his stomach. “That’s all there is to it.”

Simon goes to leave, then stops and turns.

“You aren't a disappointment to me, by the way,” he says, looking at Louis soberly. “Much to the contrary, actually. Zayn was a much bigger disappointment than you could ever be. Harry choosing acting over a pop career… now there's a disappointment. You, you're my mini-me. Can't take that too hard.”

“Ew,” Louis calls after him, making a face.

Simon laughs. “Congrats on the baby,” he calls as he shuts the door. Louis takes a few deep breaths, pushing down his anger and re-orienting himself to the tasks at hand, that he actually came here to take care of.

“Hey baby,” he sings aloud, “I don’t care what your daddy says… there’s no way in hell I’m lettin’ you get into this industry. Okay? Okay.”

 

*

 

Louis returns home to Mia and relieves her from the nanny, then finds they're both a bit stir crazy today and takes her down to the shops with him.

He wanders around, trying to balance his random craving purchases (gross flavors of posh brands of ice cream, rutabagas, pears and Goodfellas frozen pizza) with some normal things that they actually need. Mia traipses at his heels, chattering away to him about school and her friends. He listens carefully for certain phrases that he knows to watch out for, that indicate some sort of strife in her life, but she seems generally good-spirited. He wonders if it's possible no one has mentioned Zayn to her at school, if kids have somehow gotten more innocent since he was one. He doubts it.

Louis takes her to self-checkout to avoid the tabloids, but he underestimates how wily his daughter is. He's ringing up the pears when she appears at his elbow, holding a magazine up, flipped open to a page about her father.

His blood runs cold. There's a pap shot of Zayn displayed prominently, one of the shots they took of him when he walked into rehab that they've been reusing in stories about him ever since. The headline says INSIDE ZAYN’S DOWNWARD SPIRAL AND REHAB HELL, with a subhead of _How alcohol, drugs, depression and personal strife derailed the career of one of ‘10’s hottest stars..._

Trying not to betray the panic he feels, Louis takes the magazines gently from her hands and closes it, his heart pounding in his chest. There's a blurb of the article on the cover with Zayn's face, which he thinks must be why she picked it up.

“Don't wander off like that,” he admonishes, slapping the magazine face-down on the overhead of the self-checkout machine.

“Why’s Daddy gone?” Mia says cannily, studying him with her sparrow-bright six-year-old eyes.

“We told you, love, he's sick,” Louis says, trying not to sound as frustrated as he feels. He feels a bit dizzy under the soft fluorescents, and takes a deep breath.

“Sick how? Why’s he got to be in America?” she says stubbornly.

“What did you read in that magazine?” Louis says, dread snaking through him. He quickly pays for the groceries and takes her by the hand, leading her outside. She hardly ever throws tantrums anymore, but her behavior has gone downhill since Zayn left, and Louis can't risk her making a scene and causing someone to notice and snap video of them.

Louis desperately wishes he could just call Zayn, like he normally would. He feels helpless and exhausted at the very knowledge of Zayn’s remoteness to him right now. If he really needed to, he could call the rehab center and have them connect him to Zayn’s room, but he’s been going out of his way not to burden him. He feels profoundly, startlingly alone.

Mia peppers him with questions as they cross the car park. He patiently tells her to wait until they get in the car.

She does wait, then, until he's leaning over to buckle her into the backseat.

“What’d you see in that magazine?” he says again to her, gently and quietly. “What did you see, baby? Tell me so I can explain it to you.”

“That he's in America…” she says, slowly, like she's thinking.

“Los Angeles, right,” Louis affirms. “You knew that already. ‘Cos he's sick, and went there to get better.”

He stands up and leans on the side of the car. His back is bothering him, now, and he feels a stabbing reverberating pain as he straightens up. He winces.

“Why can't he be sick here?” Mia demands. “Why can't you help take care of him? Can't you just make him soup and tell him to rest?”

Louis chuckles sadly and strokes her hair.

“Love, he's a different kind of sick,” he says carefully. “A kind of sick you won't understand until you're older. It isn't like when you get the flu. His brain is making him sick, not his body, so he needs special care, and he wanted to stay in America to get it.”

“Why?” Mia says, looking upset.

“It isn't because he doesn't love you or want to see you,” he assures her, a bit desperately. “It's just that he needs to have a reason to get better, he needs to be motivated, and he really wants to come home to London and see you. So he'll get better faster, because he wants to come home.”

In truth, Zayn was adamant about going as far away as possible so his daughter would never have to see him inside of rehab, but Louis isn't going to tell her that, not until years down the road.

“Why can't he just get better?” Mia says, clearly frustrated. “How long will he be sick for? Why is it taking so long?”

“I told you, he's not a regular kind of sick, honey,” Louis says, feeling deeply queasy from this conversation and acid reflux. He hopes he can make it home without vomiting. “He'll be home in August.”

“What’s it mean when somebody says he’s a drunk?” she tosses out. She's clearly been sitting on this one. “What’s that _mean_? What’s a drunk?”

“Mims, love,” Louis says, pained. “You're too young to hear those things.”

“I heard it at school!” she protests loudly.

“Well, your daddy isn't a _drunk_ ,” he says, feeling fiercely protective of Zayn in a way he hasn’t for some time now. “He's sick. He needs help, and he's getting it, and it isn't anyone else's business no matter what they say.”

“I want to ring him,” she insists. “I want him to tell me.”

“You don't believe me?” Louis gently teases her, trying to lighten the mood.

“I want _him_ to tell me.”

“Okay,” he says, leaning over to kiss her on the head. “Alright. We’ll give him a ring tonight, alright?”

“Okay,” Mia chirps, suddenly her sunny self again.

Louis closes her door and climbs into the driver’s seat, exhausted. After a moment, he realizes he needs to vomit, and flees the car. He ends up barfing on the pavement near a newsstand. Luckily, no one is around to witness this.

“Cheers,” he mutters sarcastically, pressing a hand to his stomach. “That was exactly what I needed.”

 

*

 

“Well,” Liam says softly, when he gets home from the studio and Louis recounts this conversation to him. “I'm a little concerned that anyone she goes to school with is talking like that? What kind of Year Twos refer to people as _drunks?_ ”

From the doorway, they both glance over at Mia, who is now cheerfully absorbed in a bowl of Cheerios and an Attenborough documentary about pandas.

“I got the impression when I did some follow-up that she overheard it from two mums talking,” Louis mutters. “But she won't tell me _which_ mums, so I don't know who I need to drag around by their hair.”

“No one, ideally,” Liam says, chuckling. “Don't overexert yourself.”

Louis nods wearily. His throat is tight, and his mouth tastes chalky from the antacids he took.

“I don't want to bother Zayn with this,” he mutters. “I don't want him to feel guilty about getting better. I'll let her call him, but I don't think he should know why.”

Liam nods sympathetically. “Would you like me to talk to her?” he says softly, studying Louis with dark eyes.

He’s been very cossetting of Louis on this topic, maybe experiencing lingering guilt that he was the one who broke the news to him, maybe simply feeling sorry for him. Louis wouldn’t be surprised; there’s been an unpleasant outpouring of pity for him from the tabloids and everyone he knows. For some reason he and his daughter are the only apparent victims here -- not Zayn himself, or even Eli, the American actor he dumped brutally a few months ago as an apparent side effect of his worsening drinking problem.

Louis wishes his own husband wouldn’t fall prey to this lopsided narrative, but Liam is fundamentally sided with him, for better or for worse.

“Maybe,” Louis says, with hesitancy. “What’re you gonna say?”

Liam shrugs. “Same things you did.”

“Hold off til after I talk to him, then,” Louis says carefully.

“Up to you, babe. Just let me know.”

Liam pulls him in close and kisses him on the forehead. Louis tucks himself up against Liam, craving the protection of his arms.

Liam’s scruff brushes prickly against his neck. He strokes Louis’ lower back absentmindedly, seeming lost in thought.

Louis observes Mia. She seems content enough at the moment; their earlier conversation doesn't seem to be lingering with her. He knows, though, that kids are more resilient in the moment than they are in the long run.

He swallows and breaks away from Liam, who presses a light hand to his belly and then leaves him to go get changed.

Louis remains where he is, leaning in the doorway, watching his daughter.


	31. Chapter 31

LONDON, AUGUST 7, 2022

Zayn finds himself uncomfortably fidgety as his Escalade draws nearer to Liam and Louis’ house.

He plays with the radio, and lets Beyonce’s new single blast until it starts bumming him out, at which point he lights a cigarette to have something to do with his hands and stares out the window.

For the first time in a while, he isn’t self-conscious about looking sallow and thin. In rehab he’s not only regained his thick, shiny mane of hair and filled back out, but he’s newly whole and well under the surface, too, in a way that radiates out from within him. It was only until he went into rehab and began to purge himself -- and he spent several sessions of both group and private therapy with his gaze darting around, fiddling with the string on his joggers, clearing his throat and scowling before he relented to open up and talk -- that he realized how ill he had been, how much poison he’d held inside him.

Once Zayn started to vomit it up, he couldn’t stop. It all came up: the long and deep scars fame has left on him, the years of fear, of insecurity, of paranoia, the continual nagging feeling that his life has been speeding by him frenetically and ceaselessly with no time for him to stop or breathe.

At first Louis was too raw a wound for him to even brush his fingers over, let alone dive into. In his one-on-one therapy sessions, when they discussed his series of failed relationships they started small: first with the parade of models and actresses and actors of recent years, who had meant increasingly little to him the more he drank and the more they grew in number. Then they went down the line to Gigi, who he had really deeply cared for, if never been in love with. His therapist gets him to make the connection that Gigi was a perfect embodiment of the unencumbered, glamorous and immature lifestyle he thought he'd have post-band, the lifestyle that was torn from him by becoming a dad at twenty-two to his ex-bandmate. His resentment toward Louis is like a long hallway, and the loss of Gigi just another door behind a door.

Perrie came next, and he was able to admit so many years later that he had really loved her, that circumstance and their management had conspired to do both their heads in, and that he had ultimately done wrong by her. That was the first time he had cried in therapy, and he had tried to leave out of embarrassment -- only they wouldn’t let him leave before his session was over, so he sat very crankily in the corner and smoked three cigarettes in a row while refusing to say anything else.

Harry was the final domino to fall, before the topic of Louis was broached. Zayn freely admitted that he had loved Harry and likely always would. Sitting in that sterile white room, his hair limp from lack of product and his eyes bleary from detoxing, he’d confessed how much he wished it could have worked, how badly he had wanted Harry to save him from his downward spiral.

“And why didn’t it work?” his therapist said.

Zayn shrugged.

“Can’t ask somebody else t’ save you,” he said. “Couldn’t even save myself, could I?”

The therapist had smiled indulgently at this, which indicated some kind of progress or breakthrough. At first Zayn hated that fucking smile, associated it with heartache and discomfort. Time passed, and he came to associate it with his head breaking above water, the sloughing off of old skin, and then he came to crave the stupid smile, came to want it as often as he could make it appear.

Zayn had been there long enough to crave the smile by the time he got around to talking about Louis and their daughter. He broke down the first time, demanding to know why he wasn’t good enough, why Liam had been able to weasel into his place and take over for him.

Colin, his therapist, had said two things, neither of which he wanted to hear at the time. First he had asked, “But did you even _want_ what Liam took? Did you want a family with Louis, or do you just resent that he made a happy one with someone else? Have you bought into the lie that you could be happy, that all your issues would have gone away, if you had just forced yourself into a situation that wouldn’t have worked?”

“I wanted _him_ , and he didn’t want me. Not enough,” Zayn had snapped, his body language entirely folded up and closed off. “Not enough t’ come home. I knew he wouldn’t, that it wouldn't work, so I didn’t force him. I had too much pride t’ try, I knew ‘e’d just resent me for it. So, fine. He chose Liam instead.”

Colin had nodded at this. “But let me ask you something, Zayn,” he’d said. “ _Why_ does it still gnaw at you this much?”

This was the other thing that Zayn hadn’t wanted to hear.

“It hurts,” Zayn had said, the words tasting like tar in his mouth. “I lost somethin’. It hurts.”

“But when we lose something, we grieve and move on. We don’t stay angry for six years.”

Zayn’s eyes prickled with tears.

“I’ve been waitin’ for him,” he’d admitted, in a rough, low, voice. “Liam was right, what ‘e said to me. I’ve been waiting for him, all this time, the day he’d show up at my front door with Mia and say that he wanted to be mine, that he wanted to try, that it was me he wanted to be a family with. I can’t grieve. I can’t move on. I’m just… waitin’.”

Colin had given him the indulgent smile, then.

Zayn had plenty of time to talk the issue to death, but he’s known since he found out Louis was pregnant that their reunion would be a difficult one no matter how many breakthroughs he had in the meantime.

He dreamed about Louis in rehab. In the occasional dream he was pregnant with Zayn’s child, either Mia or a new one, and in every dream they were happy, always laughing and goofing off together.

Sometimes he was with Harry -- always in Los Angeles, with the sun low in the sky, making out by a pool somewhere. Harry's gorgeous hands snaking into his trousers, flashing that lovely charming smile of his.

Whenever he dreamed about either one of them, he woke up wanting to drink and would hit the gym instead.

The car rolls to a halt, crunching on the gravel drive. Zayn glances up and out of the window, sliding his aviators atop his head.

Louis is out on the front steps, holding their daughter, who’s acting a bit shy and whispering something in his ear. Zayn aches at seeing them. Mia has somehow grown noticeably older and more like him in the short time he’s left her, at least in his eyes. From a distance, the only difference between them is her paler irises, set off by her olive skin.

Louis looks exactly like he always does; fine-boned, elfin and mischief-eyed, but he’s round with child, now. It’s as difficult to see him pregnant again as Zayn had thought it might be. Liam being in the states for work is his saving grace. If Liam were around, this would all be harder.

Zayn steps out of the car, brimming with excitement at seeing his daughter.

“Yas,” he calls. She turns her head and looks over at him; he’s the only one who calls her that, besides his mum. Louis has done her hair up in two dark little plaits, and they swing when she turns.

Mia seems hesitant, and Louis whispers to her. Finally, with some difficulty, he sets her down.

“Yas,” Zayn calls again. He squats down and beckons her forward, missing her like crazy and needing her in his arms.

A big grin breaks out over Mia’s face and she runs to him, colliding with him and knocking some of the air out of him. He holds her tightly, squeezing her, reveling in her familiar smell of no-tangle shampoo and fabric softener.

“Daddy,” she chirps in his ear.

Zayn’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

“Loves,” he murmurs to her. “Babydoll. Hi. How are you?”

“I’m okay,” she says, in her cheery little-girl voice. “How are you?”

Zayn buries his face in her hair, so he doesn’t tear up. “I’m good,” he says, and he means it. “I’m really good, Yas. Better now that I’m with you, though.”

“Did you bring prezzies?”

“I did,” he assures her. He bought her bushels of gifts from FAO Schwarz to help soften his absence.

Mia takes him by the hand and leads him up the drive and the stairs, to Louis.

“Daddy’s back,” she informs Louis.

Louis seems to be coming over self-conscious in Zayn’s presence, folding his arms and biting his lip.

“Oh, is he?” he says cheekily, smiling at her. “I wasn’t sure.”

“Hey,” Zayn says, and leans in. Louis wraps his arms around him in a hug, and they cling to each other. Zayn is surprised to realize how much he’s missed Louis simply as a person in his life, a fellow parent, a sympathetic adult.

He pulls back from Louis and gives him a once over, his chest tightening.

“You look…” Zayn begins, planning to say _good_ or _glowing_ or something pat like that, but Louis slides in, defensive as ever, and supplies, “Pregnant?”

“I mean,” Zayn shrugs. “Yeah. Was gonna say _good_ , but, like, can officially give visual confirmation that you’re pregnant, mate.”

Louis drops his hands at his sides. His face is fuller now, but worn down by stress; his blue eyes glimmer inscrutably. He seems about to apologize for jumping the gun, but Zayn flashes him a smile so he doesn’t have to.

“It’s a boy,” Louis says, instead, and they just look at each other for a moment.

Zayn nods. “I remember,” he says quietly. “You said when you rang the other week.”

Louis hesitates, then asks, “You want to feel?” He seems unsure of himself. Zayn opens his mouth to respond.

 _“I_ want to feel!” Mia cuts in, and steps between them. She looks up with impatience.

Zayn laughs. He picks her up, then takes her hand and guides it to the warm curve of Louis’ belly. It’s easier for him to put his hand to Liam’s son inside of Louis if their daughter’s small hand is in the way, absorbing most of his touch.

The baby moves, and Zayn feels a corresponding unpleasant swoop in his own stomach, like it’s done some kind of voodoo on him.

“Cool,” Mia says appreciatively. “I felt him!”

“He’s active today,” Louis says, sounding a bit aggrieved.

“You’re gettin’ a little brother, huh?” Zayn says to Mia, idly playing with the little flower on one of her ponytail holders.

“I am!” she says, excitedly. “I get to teach him to play footie, and how to play dinosaurs, and how to cut his own sandwiches --”

“Aye, she's excited _now_ ,” Louis says, with a laugh and an eyeroll. “You should have heard her when we first sat her down to explain to her I was pregnant. It was as if the world was comin’ to an end.”

She ignores him and continues to babble to Zayn as they head into the kitchen and he sets her down.

“Mia, love,” Louis says to her, “why don't you let the grownups talk for a bit, and then we'll come get you and all go out for froyo?”

“Nooo! I want to visit with Daddy!” she whines stubbornly.

“Later.”

Mia’s eyes flash, and she stomps her foot. “ _No!_ Now!”

“Don't make me call Liam,” Louis warns her.

She rolls her eyes and storms away. Louis collapses onto a stool.

“Want anything?” Zayn says, rubbing his shoulder as he walks past him to the fridge.

“Toss me a water,” Louis moans into his hands. “She’s been good today because she knew you were comin’, so I had somethin’ to hold over her… now I expect she’ll start acting up again. She’s at that age, and Liam’s been gone a few weeks now. I can only get her to behave by threatening to call him. He's actually asleep right now, but she doesn’t quite get timezones yet.”

Zayn hands Louis a water, which he accepts gratefully, and then he shifts on his seat into a sort of contorted position that seems to afford him some comfort.

“How long’s he got left?” Zayn says, sitting.

“A week,” Louis says, the way most people would say ‘twenty-five to life’. “So, let’s get into it, how are you?”

He gazes at Zayn, concerned and genuinely interested. Zayn is discomfited by the focused attention and looks away before he responds.

“I’m better,” he finally says. “Clear-headed, like.”

Louis nods. “You seem it,” he says, genuinely.

Zayn gives him a small ghost of a smile. “Good to know,” he says. His mouth is dry, and he takes the cap off his Evian.

Louis watches him as he sips the water. His hand absentmindedly goes to his belly and rests atop it. Zayn tries not to notice this, but he’s a raw nerve right now. Everything about Louis is a little pinprick in an open wound. He’s accepted his loss, he believes he's already begun to move on, but the healing is painful. Zayn chafes at this house, at all of the little domestic knick-knacks and indicators of a shared life, even Louis’ fond annoyance when he talks about Liam being gone while obviously missing him dearly.

“What exactly went down in there?” Louis says. “Not to pry.”

Zayn knew this was coming. He toys with the only piece of jewelry he consistently wears anymore: a slim bangle Zoe Kravitz gave him before he went in, contingent on a promise that they’d record something together after he got out. It’s engraved with the phrase _o allah, grant me the serenity_.

“First I got clean,” he says, glancing up, meeting Louis’ eyes. Louis nods. “Then the other shit sorta just came along after that… workin’ out all the demons, like. What made me drink.”

He doesn’t go into detail, and rests assured that Louis won’t pry.

“You look good,” Louis says, simply. “Healthy… fit.”

Zayn nods, unsure of how he feels about being closely examined by Louis.

“Thanks,” he finally says, simply. “Anyway…” he clears his throat. “I dunno what you wanted, but I was thinkin’ I could take Mia back for weekends after I've gotten settled in…”

Zayn looks warily up at Louis, hoping no terrible indictments are about to be sprung on him, that Liam hasn’t for instance instituted a rule that he’s got to have a weekly piss test before Mia’s handed over to him.

He knows it’s uncharitable for him to think of Liam and Louis this way. He tries to remind himself it’s the lingering poison of paranoia and depression.

“Soon as you like,” Louis says with a shrug.

Zayn sags slightly in his seat with relief. “Cheers,” he says. “That’s… thanks, mate.”

“It’ll help you in your recovery, right? To see her like you usually do,” Louis says, suddenly sounding a bit like he's reciting his grocery list. “To keep a routine, and have a consistent obligation. I mean, that’s what my therapist said… I’m not a fuckin’ doctor.”

They both laugh. Zayn is relieved to hear Louis is still seeing a therapist. He feels slightly less crazy, or less alone in being crazy.

“I don’t want to keep you from her,” Louis says, looking at him intently. “I’ve told you for years that I never wanted that.”

Zayn finds himself a little choked up, and ducks his gaze.

“I know,” he mutters.

“So, this gives you a great narrative, don't it?” Louis continues, clearing his throat and seeming to want to hurry past emotional moment between them. “You're poised for a comeback, now.”

Zayn looks up and grins. “Don't call it a comeback, I’ve been here for years.”

Louis laughs.

“Here's somethin’ weird,” Zayn says, feeling a bit emboldened. “I'm actually on meds, now.”

Louis nods, processing this. “Real meds?” he says. “Not like, you got a weed card?”

It’s Zayn’s turn to laugh. He shakes his head. “Not weed,” he says, and his heart flutters with anxiety as he gears up to say it. “SSRIs.”

Louis makes a face of recognition, and trails his fingers over his belly.

“I was on SSRIs,” he admits. “A few years ago. I never said anythin’ to anybody but Liam. It was just to get through a rough patch.”

Zayn had suspected this for a while; Louis has been seeing a shrink for too long to not have been prescribed something at some point.

“I wish you’d told me,” he says.

Louis shakes his head. “Maybe I ought to have,” he says quietly. “I was just… I dunno. It was after the wedding. Wasn’t a good time between us.”

“I’m sorry,” Zayn says, worrying at his lip.

Louis shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t be,” he says. “So... you want froyo?”

“I do,” Zayn says, nodding. “Actually though, mate, can we go out for like, real ice cream?”

“God, yes,” Louis says, sliding off of the stool. “Fuck, _please_. Now you’re talking.”

He walks into the hall and yells for Mia. Zayn has one of his Twilight Zone moments, where it occurs to him that what’s happening right now is indistinguishable from a parallel universe in which he and Louis are a family.

He shakes his head and dismisses the thought. A moment later, his daughter is running into view, eager to show him a drawing she’s done.

Zayn squats to look, one arm around her. This is all that matters, he knows. This is all he needs.

As they walk out to the car, Zayn impulsively leans over and whispers to Louis, “I meant it when I said you look good, y’know. And don't sass me back an’ and say you don't, or that you're fat, ‘cos you know that fuckin’ drives me crazy.”

Louis looks at him, affronted. His mouth opens and then shuts.

“Fine,” he finally says, reluctantly. His gaze travels over Zayn. “And I meant it when I said you look fit. So.”

They exchange cheeky smiles. Zayn thinks he's evolved, for being able to flirt with Louis and not feel the bitter sting of thwarted entitlement, to not care that no matter how much he flirts or how good-looking he is, Louis won't come home with him.

“We're vain bastards, aren't we?” Zayn mutters.

“Always,” Louis agrees.


	32. Chapter 32

LONDON, SEPTEMBER 14, 2022

“Heyyy,” Harry says warmly, engulfing Louis in a hug as he steps into Harry’s house, which is a posh optical nightmare of gleaming white modern surfaces and dark old-fashioned hardwood floors.

“Hey,” Louis says in surprise, as Harry hangs onto him. “You drunk? It's like, eleven in the morning.”

“I'm not _drunk_ ,” Harry scoffs. “I can't be happy to see you? Come have a savoury vegan scone, I've just taken them out of the oven.”

“Savoury _vegan_ scone?” Louis says, as he follows Harry to his kitchen.

“It's got broccoli and leeks in,” Harry calls over his shoulder.

Louis makes a face. “I'm good.”

They settle around the kitchen island. Harry has a bite of a scone, seems to regret doing so, and sets it back down with a furrowed brow.

“How are you?” he says to Louis.

Louis spreads his hands in a display of having nothing to say. “Tired? Bitchy? Constipated?”

“Like, other than that,” Harry prods him.

“Why, do you know somethin’ I don't?” Louis tosses back at him casually.

Harry shrugs. “Weird time for you, is all. Liam's been gone a lot, right?”

“He's back for good, actually,” Louis says, and he twists his wedding band like he does sometimes when he thinks of Liam. He’s still not used to wearing such a permanent piece of jewelry. “He's done with everything he had to take care of in the states. Just, you know how he is, had a bunch of projects dangling and he didn't want them hanging over his head when it got to be baby time…”

Harry goes to the fridge and gets out a massive pitcher. It contains a purple liquid and lemon slices. Louis squints at it.

“Lemonade?” Harry offers.

“You've gone off it,” Louis informs him. “That's purple.”

“It's lavender,” Harry corrects. “Lavender infused.”

Louis shakes his head in bemusement, but accepts a glass. It's delicious. Harry looks quite fit, to his annoyance; he's clearly started training for this new film of his, and he's lean but well-muscled.

“So what brought you up from the states this weekend?”

Harry makes a loosey-goosey full body gesture. “Just, like, bit sick of LA, I suppose. Wanted to visit some people in town. Seeing my mum and Gemma tomorrow.”

“People includes me?” Louis says, observing him.

Harry glances up. “We haven't talked properly in ages.”

“I know, I agree.”

“You don't have to agree, it's just a fact.”

“You’re dancing around it,” Louis says to him, gently, doing his best not to sound accusatory. He doesn't like how Harry always pretends he hasn’t got strong feelings about things.

Harry tilts his head to the side, examining Louis with a glint in his eyes. They gleam in his face: green, canny. His mouth is set at a hard, knowing slant.

“Zayn,” Louis clarifies, as if it weren’t obvious.

“Ooh,” Harry says cheerfully, immediately turning around to go back to the fridge. “ _That._ So, I feel like I need to feed you, you sure I can’t get you anything?”

“Aye, a Nexium, but other than that, no,” Louis says, his voice clipped and insistent. “Harold, don’t be fuckin’ -- get back here and talk to me…”

Harry clears his throat.

“Let’s go in the other room,” he says.

 

*

 

Harry’s sitting room boasts absurdly high ceilings and a massive stained-glass Catherine window that overlooks the Thames and tosses rainbow reflections all over his pristine white furniture. A large black-and-white print sits on the wall Louis’ seat is facing; it’s a very subtle chiaroscuro nude of a naked man, bent away from the camera so you can only see his muscled back and part of a thigh. Despite the modesty, there’s a raw, provoking sexuality to it that makes Louis uncomfortable. He wonders if the photo is of anyone Harry knows. All he can tell is that it isn’t of Harry.

“I want to know how he's doing, but I don’t want to get back in touch with him,” Harry begins, sipping his lemonade.

“Back?” Louis says, confused. He settles back against the couch, his hand going automatically to rest on the curve of his stomach.

Harry notices this, with a typically inscrutable look on his lean, pretty face. The way he looks at Louis when he’s pregnant never fails to put Louis on edge; it’s a certain pointed glance, as if Louis is doing something rude by being visibly with child. It’s nothing like the warm, beatific angel Gabriel look he gives to other pregnant people.

It reminds Louis painfully of when he was having Mia, how Harry began to avoid looking at him after he started showing, and how he paradoxically was the subject of searching and greedy stares from strangers -- the sort you get when the manner of your impregnation is a matter of salacious public record.

Louis shifts in his seat.

“Wait, you don’t know,” Harry says, and his expression tightens up. “Shit... He didn't mention it, at all?”

Louis squints at him, concerned. “What, you two’ve been talking? Before he went into rehab? During?”

“Before,” Harry says, very quietly. “Actually, back when he was in LA for that while, d’you remember? Summer twenty-twenty?”

“Yes, I remember,” Louis says icily. “He didn’t see his daughter for like, three months.”

“Right after you got married,” Harry says pointedly. “He was drinking quite heavily at the time? I think that bender was where the issue began, actually.”

Louis is deeply unsettled by the implication that his marriage to Liam drove Zayn to substance abuse. He shifts on his seat, fruitlessly seeking comfort; the baby is pressing against his stomach in a way that’s making acid burn at his throat even worse. He hates sitting here, pinned by Harry’s laser-focused gaze and smothering in all the unspoken tension.

“So you two were in contact then,” Louis says, sounding more annoyed than he feels. “Sorry, I’m just, like --”

He gets up and starts to pace.

“D’you want anything?” Harry says, concerned. “Ginger tea, or something?”

“No, thanks, Haz, just --” Louis windmills his hand in impatience. “Just get to it, I’m losin’ steam here fast. Didn’t sleep much.”

Harry laces his fingers and looks down at his tapered, elegant pianist’s hands, running his thumb ceaselessly over the ring on his pointer finger.

“We had an affair,” Harry says, finally. He makes a face. “Not an _affair_. We weren’t seeing anyone else at the time. But it was sort of an affair, like, ‘cos we didn’t tell anyone… I mean, I told Niall.”

Louis is at once shocked by this and not at all surprised. He and Harry stare at each other for a while, until Louis nods.

“And it ended, with like…” Harry’s face comes over dark with displeasure. “I dunno, I was feeling like shit since I was keeping him in Los Angeles, and I remember like -- being with him, and he’d get these phone calls from you...”

Louis feels ice in his veins at the idea of Harry and Zayn lying in bed post-coitally, discussing him without his knowledge.

“And?” he snaps, out of patience with Harry’s dawdling way of speaking.

“You’re angry,” Harry says, sounding hurt.

“I’m not,” Louis says, taking a very deep breath and running a hand over his face, then scratching his short beard. “I’m just -- he said he was _working._ He said he wasn’t seeing Mia because he was so busy with work.”

“He was working,” Harry puts in. “He was, he wasn’t lying.”

“He was avoiding me,” Louis says, his voice hard. “I always suspected -- I always thought he was avoiding me, avoiding Liam. I just didn’t think he’d run to you to do it.”

“What’s it even matter to you, Louis?” Harry says, his voice pealing upward. “It’s got nothing to do with you, does it?”

The baby has begun to kick, so Louis settles down on the couch again, lying back against the armrest so he can have some comfort. “It doesn’t,” he admits. “It does have to do with our daughter, mind. But not with me, no.”

“It throws you off,” Harry says, scrutinizing him. “Thinking of a world where me and him could have made it work.”

Louis lets out a harsh little bark of a laugh. “Christ…”

“It does,” Harry insists. “On some level, you like the idea of him waiting for you.”

Louis is looking at the ceiling, but at this, his head snaps over so fast his neck gets stiff. He stares at Harry with queasy surprise as he’s filled by anger.

“Fuck off,” he says.

“Just admit it,” Harry says, sounding like he’s at the end of his rope. “Just admit it, like, you don’t want him, but no one else can have him.”

_“Please!”_

“You were happy when Gigi left him,” Harry says, as slow as ever but with growing intensity. “I remember Liam saying that to me. He was like, yeah, Louis seems relieved that she’s gone...”

“I'd just had his baby, for fuck’s sake!” Louis says sharply, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I was entitled to feel like that!”

Harry puts his face in his hands, then, and sighs heavily.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pained. “I don't know why I get like this around you. This isn’t the conversation I wanted to have at all.”

“But look, we’re having it,” Louis says hotly.

Harry just looks at him for a few moments.

“I don’t tend to keep feelings for people,” he says, his voice wavering. “I’ve been with a lot of people, I tend to be sort of zen about it, you know that. It really, honestly bothers me that I kept feelings for Zayn for that long, it makes me feel like -- weak, and stupid --”

Louis feels for him, then.

“And all while we were together that summer,” Harry continues, “I kept thinking…”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes -- just a bit, like it’s at himself.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “It was really good, for a while. We just clicked, we went right back to how it had been eight years ago, and it felt so good, so easy. But I was… he was throwing himself into so much shit to distract himself, and becoming more and more of a drunk, and…” He shrugs, shoulders hunched like a little boy. “I don’t like when things get out of control.”

“I know,” Louis says, not unkindly.

“I got scared that I was just part of everything he was doing to get over you. To get past you and Liam getting married. And I dunno, maybe I was, partly. But, looking back... I also feel like what we had was real.”

“He loved you,” Louis says, despite how hard it is for him to say. “He was always angry about how you ended it, he always wanted you back. Ever since he left the band, it’s been hard for him to talk about you.”

Harry laughs ruefully. “Um…” he says, and clears his throat. “Anyway, I just… I couldn’t deal with it, my insecurity. I pushed him away. He had so much shit to work through, and I had too much pride to risk playing second fiddle to this, like, idealized version of you… no offense.”

“None taken, mate.”

“So I kicked him out, I made him leave. I told him he needed help for his drinking and he needed to get past this idea of stealing Liam’s family out from under him...”

Louis winces at that being put in such harsh terms. He wonders if he's been oblivious, insecure and downright stupid all these years, to think of Zayn’s acerbic flirting with him as a manipulation tactic to keep Liam in his place, instead of a fumbling attempt at reconciliation from someone truly heartbroken. 

“I said that he was throwing his life away and that he was pathetic, and he called me a pussy -- he was drunk,” Harry clarifies, at Louis’ alarmed expression. “He said the reason I never went full solo and just ran straight to acting was ‘cos I was a weak-willed pussy, just like I was a pussy for lying about being an omega all these years, and for never seeking him out before then. And then I threw a shoe at him and he left… went back to London, and I haven’t talked to him since. Neither has Niall, after I told him what happened.”

Louis sits in stunned silence.

“Now you know,” Harry says simply.

Louis shakes his head. “I'm sorry,” he says, genuinely. “I'm -- Christ.”

“It isn't your fault,” Harry says with a shrug. “Really… it had a lot to do with his issues, and mine, and not much to actually do with you. I've tried not to blame you. I'm sorry if it sounded like I was, earlier. I was afraid of how you'd react… I didn't want you angry with me.”

“With _you_?” Louis says, incredulous.

“Like I said, you don't like him sleeping with other people,” Harry says, shrugging. “Please don't argue, ‘cos it's true. You haven't liked any of his partners… you didn't like that model bloke --”

“He was an idiot, that one,” Louis says, defensively. “An’ Zayn denied it, but I still think he was a druggie. I was like, afraid I'd pick up Mia with coke all over her face one day.”

Harry laughs.

“Haz, I _know_ you, I could never feel like that about you,” Louis says, honestly. “He was yours first, anyway. It'd actually be nice if you could work things out, make each other happy --”

Harry shakes his head, hard. “It's not on the table.”

“But --”

“Louis… it's not on the table.”

They fall quiet again, and Harry glances away, toward the window.

“I just wanted to ask how he's doing since rehab,” he says quietly. “We don't talk, and I wanted to know he's okay. That's all.”

“He's good,” Louis says, sincerely. “He's better than he's been in years. He's been a really great dad, lately, too. He smokes a lot more fags, now, and he drinks coffee like, constantly, but he's on meds for depression --” He hesitates. “Actually, he might be on meds for, ah, I think it was bipolar two? I can't remember if they sorted out the diagnosis yet.”

Harry seems unsurprised at this, which catches Louis off-guard. He just nods. “That's good,” he murmurs.

“D’you want me to put you in touch?” Louis says, a bit desperate to make it clear that he can be magnanimous and mature in this situation. “D'you want him to know you're asking about him?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says, and flashes a smile. “But thanks, Louis.”

 

*

 

“How was Harry’s?” Liam calls cheerfully as Louis steps in the house, shrugging off his jacket.

“Bit fucked,” Louis yells.

Mia runs from the other room to greet him, carrying dolls in both her hands. “That's a bad word,” she informs him.

“You're right, love, it is,” Louis says apologetically.

“I want a hello kiss.”

“Daddy can't bend down, sweets.”

“Pick me up!” she demands.

“Christ, you're at an age,” Louis mutters. “Look, I can't do that either. Here, I'll bend down, alright?”

With difficulty, he squats and then gives her a kiss on the cheek. Satisfied, she swans away.

Liam comes into the foyer, wiping his hands on a dishrag. “She's got one of her school pals over,” he says, then laughs. “She bolted away when she heard the door, just left that poor girl where she was sitting. She's so like you sometimes.”

“Help,” Louis whines at him, and Liam pulls him to his feet, then wraps him in a hug and kisses him. He tastes like garlic, which is gross, but Louis needs to be held too badly for him to protest.

“Are you cooking?” Louis says, drawing back and looking up at him. He looks quite good in a dark plaid button-down, with a few days stubble.

“I'm making pasta,” Liam confirms, gazing at him with twinkling eyes. “Making the recipe from Chef, actually.”

He slides his hands down lower on Louis, smoothing them over the hard curve of his stomach and then gripping his waist, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the side of his belly. Louis covers Liam’s hands with his own, and steps into his space so his convex shape is pressed up against the breadth of lean, muscular Liam. They smile at each other, dizzily happy, and then kiss, open-mouthed and affectionate.

“So -- you said today was fucked?” Liam finally prompts, drawing back and cupping Louis’ jaw with his hands, stroking his cheeks.

“What? Oh, Harold,” Louis says with a sigh. “It was… y'know. A lot of it was about Zayn, so…”

Liam nods. “Skip the recap for now, then.”

Louis is relieved to hear this, as he didn't particularly want to get into what he and Harry said. He’s never had any desire to to look his sweet husband in the eye and actually, painfully discuss his and Zayn's lingering possessiveness over each other. He remembers what his mum told him once, early on in his marriage, when Zayn and Liam’s feud was spilling into their professional lives and featuring heavily in the tabloids: _‘Sometimes, it's what you choose not to say that keeps a marriage strong._ ’

“I’m going to lie down,” Louis tells him. “Come join me for a cuddle when you're finished cooking?”

“I'd love to,” Liam says, and kisses his nose. “Did I tell you how sexy you look today? Very handsome, Tommo...” He runs his hand further down Louis’ body, and squeezes his thigh.

“I’d be tempted,” Louis purrs, “‘cept I'm properly exhausted just from getting up the steps, so thank our son for cockblockin’ us.”

“Thanks, son,” Liam says with mock seriousness, and he bends down to kiss Louis’ belly. Louis laughs and rolls his eyes.

“Save it for bed,” he says, but he says it warmly, while stroking Liam’s hair.

“Go lie down,” Liam says, getting to his feet. He gives Louis a kiss on the cheek. “I'll bring you some pasta.”


	33. Chapter 33

LONDON, OCTOBER 31, 2022

“Have we got enough candy, d’you think?” Liam says to Mia. She’s starting to look a bit cold, but it was her idea to eschew a jacket so everyone could see the wings Lottie made her, and he knows if he suggests she’s cold she’ll deny it vehemently. He’s learned from years with Louis that the best thing you can give a stubborn person is an out.

Mia studies him for a moment, then nods her head. He smiles at her and picks her up. They start the trek up the hill from the last house they hit, their new neighbor Simon Amstell, who spent an excessive amount of time chatting up Liam. Other families pass them, exchanging smiles and how-do-you-do’s. Mia cuddles closer to him, shivering a bit. Liam sets her down, wraps his own coat around her small shoulders and picks her back up.

“Can I take your pumpkin for you?” he offers.

“No!” she retorts. “You’ll eat my candy, Daddy!”

“It’s not _me_ who does that!” Liam says, affronted. “It’s Louis.”

“Zayn never eats my candy!”

“Well, that's true,” Liam admits. “He doesn't really like candy, though.”

“It’s my pumpkin,” she says, cuddling the plastic jack o’lantern close to her. “Mine.”

“Alright, alright…”

He buzzes them past the front gate and carries her up to the house. To his surprise, Louis is waiting at the door for them, and greets both of them.

“Get anything good?” he asks Mia cheekily.

“No!” Mia tells him firmly, flinging herself out of Liam’s arms and fleeing upstairs with her pumpkin, her wings bouncing.

“Come back here, I want a Kit-Kat!” Louis calls after her.

“Hi,” Liam says, giving him a peck on the lips. “Thought you were off to bed?”

“Too achey,” he says with a sigh. “I had a Tylenol, I’m just waiting for it to kick in, so I thought I’d stay up for you... First year she’s gone without me, y'know?”

Liam wraps an arm around Louis and guides him upstairs. He spent most of the previous evening making the house all creepy for Mia, so they have to beat aside a fake cobweb that’s escaping the banister and spilling out over the stairs.

Louis goes to lie down, and Liam gets Mia for her bedtime routine. Louis usually insists on this being his job, because he does it more efficiently while Liam tends to indulge her dawdling. He's only stopped in the last few weeks, now that the pregnancy has really begun to wear on him.

“Get your molars,” Liam instructs, as they brush their teeth together in Mia’s bathroom mirror.

She nods emphatically, but Liam doesn’t see any actual change in her technique. He decides to pick his battles, and ushers her off to bed. She’s got on her pajamas with the little witches on them, in honor of the holiday.

“Do you want a story?” Liam says, as he tucks her in and shuts off her light.

“No thank you, I’m too tired,” Mia chirps. “But do keep Daddy from eating my candy,” she adds, with all the severity and pomp of a record executive thirty years her senior.

Liam laughs. “I’ll do my best,” he promises, kissing her on the head.

He walks down the long upstairs hall to the bedroom he shares with Louis, flicking out lights as he goes. Louis is curled on their bed in the dark, pressing a hot water bottle to his back.

Liam climbs into bed next to him, kissing him on the bicep. “Do you want to go in and say goodnight to her?”

Louis laughs ruefully. “Honestly, don’t think I could get up,” he says.

Liam feels a pang of culpability. He sits up and moves Louis’ hands so he can begin to rub him, digging deep into the nerves and tissues of his back.

Louis moans with relief and pleasure, louder and louder as Liam gets deeper into his sore spots. Liam feels his cock stirring with interest. He tries to think of unpleasant things, but before long he’s half-hard against Louis’ lower back.

“I can’t _believe_ you,” Louis says, a mix of amused and astonished. “Fuckin’ poking me!”

“I don’t mean to!” Liam exclaims guiltily. “Just ignore him.”

“Would you actually fuck me right now?” Louis murmurs, tipping his head to the side to look up at Liam. Liam’s hands stop for a moment.

“Do you want me to?” he says, hopefully.

“God, no!” Louis exclaims. “I feel like shit, your son’s beating up on all me internal organs...”

Liam is disappointed, but continues rubbing him. His muscles are drawn drum-tight, like steel bands under the soft, hot skin of his slender back.

“Just checking,” he says, pressing a kiss to Louis’ shoulder, sliding his hands over the recently more pronounced flare of his hips.

“Sorry,” Louis says, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “I know I’ve been in a rotten mood, lately.”

“It’s okay,” Liam assures him, feeling terrible that he’s apologizing. He leans back down against the bed so they’re spooning, separated by Liam’s hands as he continues to rub Louis.

“You’re a good husband,” Louis murmurs sleepily.

Liam kisses Louis on the back, between his shoulder blades, through the thin cotton of his shirt. “Wish I could do more,” he says.

“This is plenty,” Louis says.

Liam massages him for another fifteen or so minutes, working out all the painful tightness of his muscles, listening to his soft breathing and the quiet nighttime sounds of the house settling.

Louis finally beckons for him to stop, and rolls over so they’re facing each other.

“Hi,” he says sweetly, looking into Liam’s eyes. Liam feels a strong tug of love for him and pulls him closer, an arm around his back. He runs one hand over the breadth of Louis’ belly and leaves it there, sliding the other through his hair and pressing his lips to Louis’ forehead.

“Hi,” Liam murmurs back. He can feel their son moving in Louis. “Has it been this bad all day? Christ.”

“No, he’s just had like, a second wind,” Louis says, yawning. “He’ll get quieted down.”

Liam nods, feeling himself begin to drift off. He loves these intimate moments with Louis, with his hands on his belly, sharing each other’s air. Something about them feels close to holy.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Louis says softly to him, glancing up. His blue eyes are dark in the low light.

“Me too,” Liam whispers, a smile coming involuntarily to his lips. “I keep wondering what he’ll be like.”

“I wonder what Mia will think of him,” Louis says, lacing his fingers with Liam’s and looking down at their hands.

“She’ll be a good big sister,” Liam assures him, yawning. The thick darkness around them and the almost-feverish warmth of Louis’ small body are lulling him to sleep.

“I hope she’s alright with things changing…”

Louis trails off.

“Here, roll over,” Liam tells him, and Louis sighs with annoyance but tiredly complies so that they can spoon. Liam wraps himself over Louis like an octopus, kissing the back of his neck and cupping Louis’ belly with his hands.

“Decided today I’m gonna schedule a C-section,” Louis murmurs.

Liam’s heart clenches with dread and fear. Louis has mentioned this a few times now, but he was hoping it might not come to fruition. “Right,” he says warily. “Okay.”

“Don't get like that,” Louis chides him with a yawn.

“Like what?”

“All Liam-y.”

Liam is a bit hurt and confused by this instruction. “Um.”

“You know what I mean... All anxious and protective. I'll be fine, baby’ll be fine. Safer this way, anyway.”

“How's it safer?” Liam says, kissing his shoulder through his thin cotton tee. He smells like cocoa butter. “Don't they put your guts in a bin?”

Louis chuckles softly. “No, they just push ‘em aside.”

“It’s still surgery…”

“Right, a very common one, and you can hold me hand the whole time.”

Liam says nothing, just continues to kiss his husband and run his hands over him.

“It's safer than the alternative,” Louis says softly. “Wasn't gonna say nothin’ ‘cos I didn't want you to worry, but they don't think I can do it. Reckon I wouldn't progress. He's too big.”

“Those estimates aren't always right,” Liam says, hesitantly.

“I don't want to argue,” Louis says, shifting back against Liam so they're closer. Liam holds him tighter. “I know they aren't, but it's more that I can just tell, somehow. Call it intuition, or whatever.”

“Sorry,” Liam says reflexively, feeling personally responsible and terribly guilty as a result.

Louis laughs. “You ought to feel good,” he murmurs. “You make big strong sons. Maybe we can move out to Surrey, turn the weekend place into a workin’ farm, ‘ave him till the fields and break the horses.”

“I don't like you being cut open,” Liam says, trying to shove down his fear, but it's a multi-tentacled beast and not easily wrangled; when he thinks he's soothed it with logic and reason it rises up again, even stronger. “I hate feeling like I made it happen.”

“You think I'm not disappointed?” Louis says, obviously teasing him but seeming a bit down about it despite this. “I'm supposed to be a tough Northerner… not be succumbing to childbirth like it’s Victorian times.”

“Don't,” Liam begs him, upset by the phrase _succumbing to childbirth._

“This is what I meant when I said not to get Liam-y,” Louis says lightly, and he sits up so he can look at Liam. Liam gazes up at him, woebegone.

Louis strokes Liam's hair and smiles at him. Liam takes in Louis, really looks at him, at his twinkly eyes and delicate features, the tattoos that cover his arms and the swoop of his fringe across his forehead. He can't stand thinking about anything happening to Louis. He can't stomach it in the slightest, it's like trying to imagine life after death.

“Everything will be fine,” Louis says to him, his sweet voice low and soothing. “I promise you. I swear.”

“You can't promise me that,” Liam says, his heart clenching, shaking his head. His palms are getting clammy.

“Liaaaam, Liam,” Louis says, beckoning him forward and pulling Liam's head to his chest. Liam closes his eyes, listening to Louis’ heartbeat. “Sweetheart. C’mere. Take a couple deep breaths for me.”

Liam complies, and feels some of the tension in his body easing.

“I love you,” Louis says, kissing his head and stroking his hair. “And this is a very routine surgery. I'll be just fine, and so will our baby.”

“I know,” Liam whispers. “Look, I love you, I love you so much. I worry about you and him every fucking day now, it's awful.”

“Then just lie here with me and try to be in the moment,” Louis says, his voice still soothing. He runs his hand over Liam's shoulder and his back. “Don't think about anythin’ else. Just listen to my heart, alright? Try to breathe in on three beats, and out on three beats.”

“Did Lena teach you that?” Liam murmurs, and then does his best to comply with the instructions.”

“She did,” Louis says, chuckling. “It proper works, actually.”

A few minutes pass. Liam’s fingers uncurl from his palms, and his pulse stops being quite so fast.

“Feel better?”

“Maybe,” Liam admits.

Louis kisses his head again. “My silly boy,” he murmurs fondly. “Be happy, alright? Don't go all mopey on me now. Stay that happy bloke I love, who's so excited about the baby that he runs home from work every day just to sing to my stomach. That's all I need from you.”

Liam buries his face harder against Louis’ chest, breathing in deep the smell of fabric softener and the scent underneath that that's uniquely Louis. Louis wraps his arms reassuringly around Liam's neck and shoulders.

“Okay,” Liam agrees. “Okay.”


	34. Chapter 34

LONDON, DECEMBER 18, 2022

“Hi, Mia,” an exhausted Louis says to his daughter as Liam sets her down on the bed. “Hi, darling.”

Liam picked her up straight from dance practice to bring her to hospital, so she's dressed in her little dusky pink ballerina outfit with her dark hair pulled back tight in a bun. She only has eyes for the newborn in Louis’ arms as she makes her way up the bed, brow furrowed in fascination.

“He looks squashed,” she says decidedly.

Liam laughs.

“You looked squashed too,” Louis informs her.

“Did not!” Mia retorts, offended.

“No, you did, honey, most babies do,” Liam says, and he comes up close to all of them. He and Louis exchange a smile, and Liam runs his hand over Oliver’s little head. He's been very quiet since his birth four hours ago, crying minimally and hardly fussing at all. His eyes constantly search, landing on nothing in particular.

Mia looks up at him. “Were you there when I got born?” she says.

Liam nods emphatically.

“Did you love me when I was new?” she says, looking at Louis.

He's already emotional, and his voice catches in his throat trying to respond to her now.

“I loved you even before you were born,” he tells her.

She looks baffled. “How?”

“You know how we could feel Oliver moving around?” Louis says, wiping his eye. “Felt you, too, love.”

“I'm almost seven,” she says, like she's puzzling something out. “How old were you when I got born?”

Louis strokes her hair. Liam seems to come to out of a reverie of gazing at their son and reaches down to release it from the bun, which he usually does for her immediately after ballet or she complains about her scalp being tugged. Her dark hair is thick, but pin-straight, and falls down like water.

“I’d just turned twenty-four,” he says. “You were a late birthday present for me.”

“That's _soo_ old,” she says, staring at Oliver again. “I'm almost seven.”

“So we've heard,” Louis jokes. Liam laughs. He's started filming this moment on his phone, which Louis appreciates.

“When you're twenty-four, you'll know it wasn't old at all,” he tells her. “You'll think it's young, really. I promise.”

Mia reaches out and pokes Oliver hard in the cheek. Louis instantly grabs her hand and drags it away. Oliver, to his credit, only makes a small whimpering sound.

“Don't do that,” he says, very firmly.

Mia looks at him, defiant. “I just wanted to see.”

“You don't need to see. You know it would hurt you to get poked in the face like that, so you can understand you don't do it to someone else. Especially a baby who can't do anything back.”

“ _Fine_ ,” she says, narky. “Can I hold him?”

“You can sit on my lap and hold him, and I'll hold both of you.”

Liam sets his phone down so he can help arrange this. Louis is drugged to the gills, but still in pain from his C-section, and he winces as he accommodates both of his children on his lap.

Mia holds him very tightly, like she senses Louis’ anxiety over how fragile he is. She's too young to support his head properly, so Louis does it for her.

“He's big,” Mia notes.

“I know,” Louis says drily, eyeballing Liam, who gives him an apologetic grimace as he snaps photos.

“I'm sending this one to the Karen and Jay group chat,” Liam says, glancing at his phone. “They’ll love that.”

“Are they all still out at dinner?”

“Back in twenty, my mum said.”

Liam snaps a few more.

“Nice thing about a Cesarean,” Louis comments, “I don't look quite as much as like hell as I did with this one.”

He gestures to Mia, then strokes her hair. She's utterly engrossed with Oliver, staring at him and playing with his tiny fingers. He's starting to go to sleep, to Louis’ amazement.

“You always look good, Louis,” Liam scoffs as he comes over to show him the photos.

“This baby is so relaxed,” Louis says to him. “He's like, stoned, this baby. Were you like this, or summat? My mum says I definitely wasn't.”

Liam is about to respond when Mia looks up at them. “Daddy,” she says, to neither of them in particular.

Liam drags a chair over to the bed. “What’s up, love?”

“You told me he'll look like you,” Mia says, pointing to Liam. “But I don't look like you. Why not?”

Louis and Liam exchange one of those mutually sympathetic, heartbroken looks that they've had to give each other more and more of as Mia has gotten older and begun to ask more questions.

“You look like Zayn an’ me,” Louis says simply, stroking her hair again.

“Will I look like Liam too, someday?” she says quietly, rubbing her thumb over Oliver’s forehead. Oliver fusses, and Louis feels a pang of protective instinct toward him.

“No, baby,” Louis says. “You won't. But you'll be like him in the things you say and do, ‘cos he's your dad too.”

“Why do I look like just Zayn?” she says, her brow knitting.

“Because me an’ Zayn made you,” Louis murmurs to her. The difficulty of this conversation and the pain he's in are both wearing on him heavily.

“Why didn't you and Daddy make me?” she says, looking at him, hurt and confused. “You made _him_.”

“Lovey, you've got Zayn,” Louis says to her, his voice as low and sing-songy as he can make it. “He's your dad, too. So you've got three dads. Oliver’s only got two.”

Mia seems to like this concept. “He does?”

“Of course,” Louis says, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. Liam notices this and takes Oliver out of his and Mia’s arms, and sets him down in the crib.

“He's just got me and Liam,” Louis explains. “Zayn isn't his dad.”

“He's not? He won't look like Zayn?”

“No. But us and Zayn, we're all your dads.”

“ _Why_ ,” she says, clearly frustrated.

Liam sits down next to them again and takes her little hands in his, then looks at her intently.

“Hey,” he says, and she drags her attention over to him. “So... before you were born, I loved Louis, very very much. And you were inside of him, so I loved you too. And he and Zayn couldn't be together, because sometimes people care about each other, but they just can't be together. You know how Uncle Niall had to get a separation from Aunt Barbara?”

She nods, seeming to grasp the concept.

“So because I loved you and your dad so much, I became another dad to you,” Liam says, his voice thick with emotion. Louis begins to tear up and he clears his throat. “So I put you in my heart, and you'll always be there. And you don't look like me, but like Louis said, you'll be like me in some ways, because I've always been your dad, just like Louis and Zayn have. And I'll always _be_ your dad, just like they will. And it doesn’t matter that you don't look like me. We've told you, we’ll love Oliver and you exactly the same, always.”

Mia looks over at Louis, who nods at her, his eyes glistening.

“‘S’like how I've got a different daddy than Aunt Lottie, and Fizzy, and Ernest and -- y’know, everybody,” he says thickly. “We’re still brothers and sisters. Doesn't matter, love.”

Mia cuddles up against his chest, her feet hanging off the side of the bed in their little ballet slippers. He kisses her head again.

“So I'm special and get more love,” she says, finally. “‘Cos I’ve got _three_ daddies.”

Liam snorts and rubs his forehead, and Louis laughs so hard his stitches ache.

“If that's how you want to see it,” he tells her, greatly relieved that she isn't upset.

“Speaking of Niall,” Liam says, “he's the one that sent that massive basket of toys in the back corner. Most of them are for Mia, actually.”

“Toys?” she says, excitedly.

“When we're at the house, you get them. But here's the note,” Liam says, and hands it to Louis.

_congrats lad will be visitin soon but after the new year most likely. stop havin your kids in the wintertime its too cold for me to be traveling with me bum knees_

_most of these presents are for mimsy, didnt want her to feel left out cos i kno greg practically staged a coup when i was born. did u know that sixty percent of the original one direction has now had babies with each other? i told harry last week that me and him have to have a baby now to make it an even hundred but he didnt think that was too funny. i personally thought it was hilarious_

_barbara sends her love of course. also last thing, cant believe u named the baby after oli and not me u twats. love ya and liam and your weeuns very much, hope u heal fast cos we've got to get on with this 8th record sometime before the new millennium. xx Nialler_

Louis grins to himself.

“I'm going to be telling people for the next twenty years that we didn't name him after Oli,” he says to Liam, setting the note aside.

“Even I don't believe you,” Liam says, laughing.

“Lad!” Louis exclaims, affronted. “I've told you how many times now that I just like the name Oliver!”

“It would be okay if you did,” Liam says, clearly just taking the piss now. “I mean, he is out right now buying diaper cream for us. The man deserves some recognition for his years of service.”

“Alright, it's sort of for him,” Louis admits.

“I knew it!” Liam crows quietly.

Louis glances down at Mia, who's fallen sound asleep against his chest.

“Exciting day,” Liam notes.

“We had a baby,” Louis informs him, letting a smile spread steadily across his face.

Liam matches it, inch for inch. “We did,” he agrees, his voice soft and sweet.

He goes to the dozing Oliver in his crib and picks him up very lightly, so as not to wake him, then lays him against his shoulder and rocks him, pressing his nose to his ear and closing his eyes.

“That newborn smell,” Louis comments. “Nothing like it.”

“I forgot how easy it is to love them,” Liam murmurs. “I think he looks a bit like me, don't you?”

“Payno,” Louis says fondly, “he looks a _lot_ like you.”

Liam beams with no self-consciousness whatsoever. His entire face lights up. “You seem happy about that,” he whispers.

“I'm over the moon,” Louis says, grinning. “I always wanted a baby that had your sweet face. You _know_ that, you goof.”

Liam's eyes crinkle in a smile. Louis’ heart quickens with love for him.

“We have a son,” he says softly, tenderly stroking his tiny bald head. “I've got a son...”

Louis lies back against the pillows, Mia fast asleep on his lap, watching his adoring husband in the hazy orange sunset light filtering through the curtains of his room. He's bone-tired and in pain, but his heart is full.

“He's perfect,” Liam whispers, then cradles him in one arm so he can reach down with the other and grab Louis’ hand tightly.

Louis smiles at him, from ear to ear.


	35. Chapter 35

LONDON, FEBRUARY 1, 2023

Louis is pulling an Adidas tank over his head when he hears Liam murmur, “Hey…”

He glances up and sees Liam sitting up, his dark eyes drowsy and his hair standing on end.

“Go back to sleep,” Louis whispers.

“No, you come back to bed,” Liam says, quietly, so Oliver doesn’t wake in his crib a few feet away.

Louis shakes his head. “I can never manage to sleep late anymore, you know that…”

He bends down to lace up his trainers.

“It’s only six, Louis,” Liam whispers. “I’m not asking you to sleep in. Come cuddle with me.”

A lump rises in Louis’ throat. He’s exhausted from the newborn, and he wants nothing more than to return to bed, but he’s gotten in an hour on the treadmill every morning this week and the idea of breaking that streak makes him panicky.

“Louis, you don’t have to run away from us and go exercise,” Liam says, looking a bit woebegone. “Come here… get the baby and come be with me… please?”

He looks at Louis with pleading eyes.

Louis makes an expression of frustration, but he’s sort of relieved to be dragged back to bed, to be given an out. He peels off his running shorts and kicks off his shoes, then picks up a dozing Oliver and cradles him fast to his chest, kissing his little bald head. Oliver makes one of those cat-like mewling sounds that babies do, and he tightens his little fists, then looks up at Louis with wide, somber eyes.

“Hi, baby,” Louis coos, full of an easy, dazzling love for him. Having done this all once before, and having had an easier go of it this time, he’s got far less anxiety about Oliver than he did with Mia. He used to lie awake those nights when Mia was first born, gripped by depression and anxiety about the fact that she was now outside his body and no longer under his protection -- trying not to look at Twitter or TMZ, trying not to ache from things Zayn had said to him or Liam. 

Liam has been immensely doting on both of them since Oliver was born, posting about him constantly on social media and bringing Karen and Geoff around as often as they can stand to pile in the car and drive out. Louis revels in this, although it tugs at his heart to remember these are things Liam wanted to do with Mia, but didn’t feel as if it were his place to.

Louis settles back against the pillows, and Liam scoots up on the bed. Oliver tips his head back into Louis’ hand so he can look at both of his parents.

Liam begins to sing to him, and Louis hands the baby off so he can settle against Liam’s shoulder. They sit like that for a while, Oliver happily stuffing his fist in his mouth and kicking his little feet. They watch him, chuckling at his dazed awe of the world around him. 

Louis feels himself about to drift off again when he sees a figure pop up in his peripheral vision.

Mia is in their doorway in her rumpled unicorn pajamas, rubbing at one eye. “Daddy,” she whispers loudly.

Louis gets up and goes to her, picking her up and hoisting her in the air. She giggles, and he fireman carries her and then tosses her onto the bed, much to her delight.

“What’s up?” he says softly.

“I heard you laughing,” Mia says, looking up at them. “Don’t laugh without me.”

These four words pierce Louis’ heart. He ruffles her hair.

“We won’t, love,” he murmurs, and Liam reaches out and squeezes her shoulder. Seeming relieved, she settles down on Louis’ lap, peering at Oliver as he dozes in Liam’s arms.


	36. Chapter 36

LONDON, APRIL 18, 2028

“So what is the big deal about me taking acting classes?” Mia demands, throwing her backpack in the backseat and getting into the passenger side with a huff.

“Uh, nice to see you too, love,” Louis says, taking a sip of Coke Zero as he pulls away from the school.

“You said to talk to Zayn, but he said he'd already discussed it with you and you'd rather I not,” Mia says, sounding quite incredulous with him. “What's the problem?”

Louis rolls his eyes and moves his sunglasses to the top of his head. “He was supposed to just say _no_ ,” he says, making a mental note to mention this to Zayn next time they talk.

“Well, he didn't,” Mia says, looking intently at him from the passenger seat. When she gets stroppy like this, she reminds Louis of himself, but she's got all of Zayn’s iciness as well.

“I don't want you focusing on yet another thing that isn't school,” Louis says, distracted as he glances over his shoulder to merge. “Your grades have been shit this semester, and you know it.”

Now it's Mia's turn to roll her eyes. “My tutors are rubbish!”

“We can find you new tutors, but the tutors won't help if you're talking with your mates all through class.”

“Like you never talked in class?”

Louis snaps his fingers at her. “Do you pay attention to anything I say?” he says, starting to lose his patience. “I never went to uni, I never finished my education, and I got supremely, absurdly lucky for it, but it could have easily gone the other way and had me stuck for life in Doncaster as a day labourer, so --”

“Right, but you _didn't,_ ” Mia says, exasperated. “And now we're millionaires, and what's the point of that if I can't follow my dreams --”

“Act in school plays, then!”

“That's not how movie stars get their start! I have to train with real professionals! I'm behind already because you wouldn't let me start on lessons when I was little --”

Louis sighs and pushes his hair back from his forehead. “Look, you're book smart. You're not like me. Why don't you work to your potential, why d’you want to give up on school? Do you know how many actresses have degrees?”

“A lot of ‘em went back for those,” Mia challenges. “After they already had a career. I can always go back!”

“I didn't,” Louis says, shrugging. “Liam didn't. Zayn didn't. What makes you different, love? You get distracted early on, and it's a death knell. You've got to push straight through and just get it done while you've got the momentum.”

Mia slumps down in her seat. “I hate junior secondary,” she says. “It's so stupid. The teachers are rubbish. My friends have gotten so annoying. My footie coach is an arsehole --”

“Language! And you go to a very nice, expensive school!”

“I just want to do something _away_ from school, and you tell me to do drama there!”

“I loved doing school plays,” Louis says, shaking his head at her.

“Yeah, ‘cos you got to sing. I can't sing.”

“You can too.”

“Fine, I don't want to then,” Mia bursts out. “Everyone expects me to want to sing because of you lot. I don't want to sing, I want to act.”

She turns, and leans her chin on her hand and elbow against the window.

“Aunt Lottie said I had the look for it,” she mumbles. “She said I've got Zayn's look.”

She does have Zayn’s look; it’s plainer to see the older she gets. She’s poised to be good-looking in that effortless, elegant way he is. Louis feels a familiar stab of nerves at the thought of his personality and Zayn’s charms meeting up in one person.

“Lottie adores you,” he says wearily. “She isn't an agent or a manager. They'd say horrible things to you, love, even as young as you are. They'd warp your self-esteem completely and tell you to change when there's nothing wrong with you. I want you as far away from those people as you can be, ‘til your brain’s done developin’.”

“My brain’s plenty developed,” she mutters.

Louis shakes his head. “‘Fraid not.”

They pull into the drive and Mia storms out, grabbing her backpack.

“Don't slam the --”

But it's too late, the Lambo door is heaved shut with all of the force in her wiry little body. Her plait bounces as she stomps away. Louis follows her wearily.

Mia bursts into the house theatrically, yelling to Liam and Oliver in the living room, “‘Lo, Dad! ‘Lo, Oli! Daddy’s being mean to me!” and then flees upstairs before Louis can say anything.

Liam sits in the living room, helping Oliver assemble a Hot Wheels set. They look deeply immersed and wear identical furrowed brows to pair with their matching snub noses. Oliver is wearing overalls with one of the snaps undone, and his light brown hair is unbrushed and sticking up in the air.

“Mean to her, huh?” Liam says, grinning at Louis as he comes in.

“It's this acting thing, again,” Louis says. He comes over and scoops Oliver up in his arms. Oliver laughs loudly.

“Daddy, I'm busy! I'm working!” he protests, giggling, as Louis kisses him on the head.

“My easy child,” he mutters very softly, setting him back down next to Liam. Oliver beams and gets back to work snapping the track together.

Liam gives him a look. “Don't say that,” he mouths reproachfully.

“Can I talk with you in the kitchen?” Louis says, hands on his hips.

Liam nods and Louis helps him to his feet. They cloister together at the island. The cook sets down the meal prep she's working on and makes herself scarce.

“She's making me _batty,_ Liam,” Louis explodes, opening the fridge and staring inside only to find nothing he’s interested in. He slams the door and wheels around. “I'm at my wits end. Everythin’ I do is wrong!”

“She's a twelve year old girl,” Liam says, his voice low and soothing. “It happens. It’s just that age.”

“And Zayn isn’t helping,” Louis grumbles, starting the kettle. “Like, we had it so good with him, he was playing ball so well, and then he had to go and get Nina pregnant, and now he feels guilty that ‘e’s not attentive enough to Mia, so he’s just givin’ her whatever she wants when she goes over. I swear, she never comes back from his with her weekend homework done anymore. And then you’re with up her at eleven p.m. on a fuckin’ Sunday tryin’ to teach her in _one hour_ shit that she needed _three days_ to look over and understand --”

Liam puts his hands up. “Babe, babe.”

“An’ we just end up yellin’ at her ‘cos she gets so fuckin’ narky and defiant, and then she mouths back like, _Zayn_ wouldn’t yell at me, and I want to put me ‘ead in the fuckin’ toaster!”

“In the _toaster?_ ” Liam repeats, and starts to laugh. “Babe! Tommo! Please calm down.”

“In the -- fuck! The oven! Whatever!” Louis says passionately, throwing his hands in the air. “And did you hear her the other day, when she was so pissy about school and she called Oliver our _real_ child? Where the fuck did _that_ come from?”

“We both know she only said that to upset you...”

“I do know! She sounds like me at her age!”

“Then you understand,” Liam says reasonably, leaning his elbows down on the counter.

“But it's different,” Louis says, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands in exhaustion. “I might have mouthed off about it, but I always knew, like, me and my mum were so tight that it didn't matter. I don’t know if this is the same thing. I don’t have the perspective to know that.”

“You’re that close with her,” Liam assures him. “Closer than anybody, alright? It’s just that she’s _twelve_ , Louis. And, look… Zayn’s actually in her life, you know? He shares a religion with her, she’s close with his family -- it isn’t like you and Troy…”

The kettle goes off, and Louis sighs and starts making his tea.

“I don’t…” Louis trails off, unable to articulate what he’s saying. He jams a thumb up under his brow, trying to ease the tension headache he’s developing. “I don’t want to get into that.”

“It’s dropped,” Liam says, apologetically.

“It’s always me that gets the brunt of it,” Louis says. He stirs his tea. “Like… She respects you, y’know? You’re so much in charge. When you lay down the rules, she may not like it, but she won’t fight you. And Zayn has always been the weekend dad, the fun alternate. It’s me that’s the punching bag when she’s upset about something. She knows how I favor her, she remembers how I used to have to compensate for Zayn, and sometimes she exploits that.”

“I could talk to her about this,” Liam offers. “Just sort of explain why you’ve got good reasons for not wanting her to dive into the industry. I mean, I’m more boots on the ground in it than you are, I spend more time in LA, right?”

“Aye,” Louis allows, “but it’d undermine me to send you in there like a stormtrooper, y’know? She’d know that I failed, that I handed over my parentin’ duties.”

Liam fiddles with a little succulent plant on the gleaming countertop, checking its leaves for dry spots.

“It’s because we _aren’t_ as close,” he mutters after a while. “Me and her. She feels like she can do that to you because she feels more secure with you. We aren’t as close as you and her are. We’ve just got less in common.”

“Liam,” Louis says, pained. “She _adores_ you, come on.”

“I’m not saying she doesn’t,” Liam clarifies. He seems resigned and a little sad, which kills Louis. “And I’m not saying it won’t ever change. But, I don’t know. For right now, we’re different personalities. It’s like me and you were at first, you know? Oil and water. When she gets older, it’ll change. She’ll start valuing different things, and realize why I laid down the rules the way I did… maybe she’ll feel closer to me. But for now I sort of feel like the stiff in a suit, all the time.”

“You’re really close with Oliver,” Louis points out. “You’re two peas in a pod. I think she feels that, and feels a bit on the outs about it. And she’s getting older and chafin’ at authority and that sort of, like, let’s lay on the floor and do a puzzle thing. It isn’t you, love, it’s just the way you are as a parent. You’re not so much like me, you’re more good wholesome fun.”

Liam sighs. “If you did want to let her just meet some industry people…”

Louis’ head snaps up. “No!” he exclaims. “ _What?_ What have I been sayin’ for months now?”

“Louis,” Liam says patiently, “if you think she hasn’t already strong-armed Zayn into letting her meet some power players, you’re lying to yourself, love. And even if she hasn’t, they’re always over at his place anyway. For now, he’s a hot commodity again, with this new sound he’s got.”

Louis stares at him. “Fine,” he snaps, “that’s between me an’ him, then, and I’ll ask him --”

“If we could meet her where she’s at,” Liam continues, “if I could bring her to LA and have sort of, supervised talks -- I could even take the shine off it a little, for her. Not just saying empty things, but actually giving her real evidence of how shit that life can be. And like you said, she’ll believe me, y’know?”

Behind them, the refrigerator clunks quietly as it makes ice.

“I can’t talk about this,” Louis says sharply, drinking his tea. “I can’t -- Christ. It’s my _daughter_.”

“I’m not saying throw her to the wolves! We’ve got our own sour opinion on it, because _we_ got thrown to the wolves, but our parents didn’t know anything, they didn’t know how to protect us.” Liam looks intently at him. “We can only hold her back so much, Louis. You’ve got to let kids find things out for themselves, you’ve got to let them draw their own conclusions. But you know, at the end of the day, it’s up to you, you’ve got the final word. I’ll follow your lead on this, always.”

Louis lets out a long, belabored sigh.

“There’s got to be some sort of compromise here that I’m just not seeing,” he murmurs.

There's a crash from the other room. They both look up.

“I broke it!” Oliver yells.

“Shit,” Liam says, laughing, and they return to the living room together. “What happened?”

Oliver sits frowning in a pile of disconnected track pieces, while their German Shepherd Sheba sits beside him wagging her tail.

“I was playing with Sheba and I fell down on it,” Oliver says, morose.

“Oh, love,” Louis says, scooping him up again. “You didn't break it, silly. They fit back together again, see?”

Liam crouches and demonstrates. “Roadwork has experienced a brief setback, but can continue as intended,” he intones, and grins at Oliver, who smiles back.

“Good,” he chirps, and Louis lets him down.

“Why don’t you go talk to her,” Liam whispers as he and Oliver resume their building. Louis nods and heads upstairs.

He goes to her room and knocks, and gets a muffled shout of “Ugh, if you _must_ ,” in return.

Louis steps into her room. She's curled up facing away from him on the massive canopy bed she insisted on having when she turned ten. The rest of her room is a very retro ‘00s mix of grunge and girly: Louis reluctantly allowed her to ‘express herself’ by spray-painting on the walls, like she does in all her rooms at Zayn's houses, and there are Vans and skateboard parts strewn everywhere. But she has fancy white and inlaid silver wallpaper, a pink Mac and dozens of stuffed animals.

“Hi, it's your terrible dad, just wanted to be evil at you some more,” he says.

Mia snorts. When she's in the right mood, she enjoys a good sarcastic crack at her expense. Louis takes that as a cue that he can come over and sit on the bed. He pats her on the arm.

“I have reasons for the rules that I make,” he says. “Every one of ‘em.”

“I know you think you're protecting me,” she mutters. “But it just feels like you're stepping on my potential.”

“Love…” Louis says gently, biting his tongue, reminding himself that she's very young and whole-heartedly believes what she's saying. “The nice thing about me and Liam and Zayn bein’ well-connected millionaires in the music industry is, if you ever want to act, you can act. You haven't got to drop out of school and grind grind grind. You have the luxury of going to school and really exploring your options and havin’ us pay for all of it. It's a great deal, really. And you're still so young. You might find somethin’ you love about school.”

“I won't,” she sighs. “I like drama and footie and that's it. I'm rubbish at maths and history.”

“We're all rubbish at maths and history,” Louis reassures her, rubbing her shoulder.

“Not Zayn,” she mumbles.

“Well,” Louis says, looking for something to say that isn't a condemnation of Zayn nor an endorsement of the musician lifestyle. “He never did anything with it, did he? See, this is what I mean.”

“What's that?”

“That even _loving_ school doesn't help, if you don't finish your education.”

“So it's fine that I hate school and I'm rubbish at most of it, as long as I finish out?”

“That is actually essentially what I'm saying,” Louis says, laughing. “But look, if we can get you through secondary and on to uni --” Mia makes an aggrieved face at that “-- then uni will be easier, because you can study what you like. Even, y’know, theater. And if you get into a good uni, you can get taught by very esteemed actors,” he says, inclining his head to her.

She seems to actually consider this point.

“And then when you finish out,” he continues, “you'd have that much more options. This is the next ten years of your life, love, but you'll live about sixty or seventy after that, God willing. Do you want to limit yourself so much in the very beginning?”

Mia is silent. He hopes that means he's made a good point.

“Imagine how proud all your nans would be to see you graduate uni,” he says. “First grandchild for all of them.”

Mia clears her throat. “Is Karen really my nan?” she says.

“Aye, she is,” Louis answers smoothly.

“Step-nan, isn't she?”

“Same thing,” Louis says, sensing the turn in the conversation and dreading it.

“Is it the same?” she mutters darkly. Louis feels the Zayn beginning to waft off of her and gets the same heady sense he gets when trying to argue with Zayn himself -- like he was in the cellar and someone suddenly switched off the light, leaving him to fumble around.

“Yes,” he says firmly.

“She thinks of me as her granddaughter?”

“I hope so, or it's a mystery why she rang the other day and asked how her granddaughter is doing, as I don't think she meant to call your aunt Ruth.”

Mia sighs.

“Did Zayn put this stuff in your head?” Louis says warily, hoping against hope that the comfortable harmony he and Liam have finally developed with Zayn isn’t being threatened again.

“ _No_ ,” she says, clearly annoyed.

“Alright, didn't think so, just checking.”

“We don't even talk about it,” she says. “Except maybe ages ago, right after Oli was born. He just asked if I felt like I wasn't getting enough attention. I said I was, but the baby was getting more. And he said it was just because Oli was brand-new and needed it more, and he bought me the drum set.”

She points to said state-of-the-art set, which sits in the corner, collecting dust and tossed pieces of laundry. She likes to fiddle away at the guitar and piano, but she’s never been one for the drums. This is much to the relief of Liam and Louis, who have both developed tinnitus in middle age.

“Alright,” Louis says. “And it isn't about his girlfriend, and the new baby?”

Mia plays with the fringe of the blanket on her bed, her mouth set stiffly.

“I just don’t know where I fit right now, what I’m supposed to be doing, and I feel like acting is it,” she says.

In that moment, she sounds just like him. He feels a powerful fatherly pull toward her.

“You’re twelve, angel, you fit right here,” he says, gravely serious. “In this room, in this house, with the people who adore you, doin’ school for as long as you can and bitching to us about it as much as you like, as long as you keep going.”

Mia smiles. “Aaand?” she says, sing-songy.

“And,” he sighs, hoping he doesn’t regret what he’s about to say, “I will get you some new tutors. And if you pull your grades up… we’ll see about some acting lessons, here and there.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” she says, sitting up and embracing him.

Louis squeezes her, hard. “If you want to quit the school footie team, I can get you on a good travel team,” he adds. “Just say the word.”

She laughs. “No, I was just being a brat... the team’s fine.”

“Good, love. Good.”


	37. Chapter 37

SURREY, MAY 1, 2028

“More hustle, Mia!” Louis yells, as he walks along the side of the pitch with two small and overpriced baskets of chips for Liam and Oliver. “You're draggin’ arse out there, babe!” he adds, as he climbs the bleachers. There's scattered appreciative tittering from the other parents, who are on the whole charmed and amused by Louis’ active parental involvement in these otherwise sometimes tedious games.

Mia, playing at mid, gives him an exasperated look. As she runs by, she shouts, “Hey Dad, d’you ever shut it?”

“Oi,” her burly female alpha of a coach calls, “head in the game, Tomlinson,” then turns to Louis and snaps, “And you -- let me do my job, yeah?”

Louis rolls his eyes at her and reaches over to dig into Liam's chips. Liam looks at him, affronted.

“Excuse me!” he says.

“Well, I did go and get them for you,” Louis defends himself. “She's got no spring in her step at all today. D’you see that? She’s too good, coach plays her too much, she’s like to wear her out and get her injured.” 

“I think she just hates playing at mid, is all,” Liam says reasonably, and takes a sip of his beer.

“This is boring,” Oliver pronounces, as he sits on the ground in front of them and rips up grass.

“Pay attention, you'll start playing regulation in a couple years, this is how you learn,” Louis tells him, with no invective behind it. He can’t help but dote on Oliver, who has Liam’s warm dark eyes and innocent way.

“I don't wanna learn footie,” Oliver informs him. “I wanna play Transformers with Robbie. It's Saturday. We play Transformers on Saturday.”

“What is with American programming and cars?” Louis muses. “Everythin’s a car, y'know?”

“We've got Top Gear,” Liam points out.

“And everyone on it now are Americans,” Louis rejoinders.

“I love cars,” Oliver says emphatically. “I’m gonna be a driver someday.”

“Over my dead body,” says Louis.

Mia stops a drive on her team’s goal and gets in a good strong kick upfield, and Louis cheers very loudly for her, jumping out of his seat a bit and jostling Liam’s beer. Liam wraps an arm around him and buries his face in his shoulder.

“You do embarrass me a bit,” he murmurs fondly.

“Aye, well, get over it,” Louis says good-naturedly. “It's been like, seventeen years, lad.”

“Eighteen.”

“There you go, then.”

Louis’ attention is laser-focused on the game, but out of the corner of his eye, he spots a familiar sauntering figure. He glances over to see Zayn, who's got the ever-present leather jacket on despite the heat.

“Hey,” Louis says, surprised. “Didn't think you'd make it to this one.”

Zayn shrugs. “Tour doesn't start for another week, reckoned I'd pop by.”

Louis beckons for him to come sit in the empty spot to his right. He can feel Liam tensing up a bit, and he lays a hand reassuringly on his thigh.

Zayn settles next to him. “So where is she?”

Louis points her out. “Number seven.”

“Right,” Zayn says, nodding. “Cool. Is she… like… a bit short? Don't usually see her next to other girls.”

“Other team is massive,” Louis says, defensively. “I bet they're juicing or summat.”

“Louis, they're _twelve!_ ” Liam cries from beside him in disbelief.

“I bet most of ‘em are really thirteen, though. Y’know?”

Liam just scoffs, then leans back to talk to Zayn behind Louis’ back. “She's small for her age,” he tells him, “but not, like, hugely so.”

“Aha, I knew it,” Zayn says slyly.

“It's weird that you're here, ‘cos Niall was going to come today,” Louis says. “He just skived off like, hours before, said he's got the flu or summat.”

Zayn clears his throat. “That’s probably best,” he mutters.

Louis sighs and flaps a hand at him.

“Imagine those headlines,” Liam comments.

“Are there even paps here?” Louis says, glancing over at him.

Liam lowers his sunglasses a bit and makes a noncommittal expression. “I was warned there might be.”

Out on the pitch, Mia feeds the ball to a forward for a beautiful assist that ends in a goal. As her team celebrates briefly, she looks toward the bleachers, making sure Louis saw. He smiles at her and gives a nod, and she flashes a grin before getting back into position.

“See, she’s picking up,” Louis says, nudging Liam. “Just needed a kick in the arse.”

Liam laughs. “You know, we could just enjoy the nice day and the game,” he says, giving Louis a knowing smile. “We don’t have to be prepping her to start for Liverpool by sixteen.”

“Who’s going to provide for us all when we’re old, then?” Zayn says drily. “We’re all so skint.”

Louis laughs.

“I’ll back off a bit,” he mutters abashedly to Liam, who ruffles his hair fondly and takes another sip of his beer.

“How’s Oliver?” Zayn says to no one in particular. A mum behind him cheers loudly and jostles him, and he turns and squints at her before settling his attention back to Louis.

“He's great,” Louis says proudly. “Very well-behaved, very popular with all his little mates. He’s always the leader, everything he does.”

“Don’t talk about me,” Oliver admonishes from his seat in the grass, in that serious way of his. “I’m right here.”

“Sorry, lad,” Louis says, chuckling.

“Don’t _laugh_!” Oliver exclaims, offended in the way only a six-year-old can be.

Liam laughs at that. “He’s also got that sort of --” he leans forward to address Zayn “-- the, I don’t know, the _me_ bit, where he’s not really big on being teased. Tommo’s trying to teach him.”

“We’ll get there,” Louis says confidently. “Got to get him prepped for secondary. So where’s your tour, again?”

“Just Chicago and the coasts,” Zayn says, lacing his hands together. He seems distracted, watching Mia intently. Louis thinks he sees pride shining on Zayn’s normally inscrutable face.

“I’ll miss her,” he says quietly. “I haven’t been gone for this long in a while.”

“You know, we could fly her and some friends out for a date or two,” Louis says to him. “It’s summer soon, she’ll be looking for things to do.”

Zayn makes a face. “Not sure I want her watchin’ me sing my music,” he says, and laughs uncomfortably. “It’s a bit, like, mature.”

“Do a special sanitized set.”

“Oh, everybody’ll _love_ that.” Zayn shakes his head. “I dunno. Sometimes I don’t even know why I tour… that was never my bag, that was you lot… I just sort of stand there and sing, now. Didn’t think people liked that.”

“You sold out all your dates,” Liam points out, surprising Louis, who didn’t think he was listening.

Zayn glances over at him with curiosity. “You know that?”

“I hear things,” Liam says cryptically, and he finishes off his beer, his watch flashing in the sunlight. He looks back at the pitch, squinting, and contributes nothing else to their confab.

Louis and Zayn exchange a look, and then Zayn settles forward on the bleacher seat.

“Right, well… I suppose I did,” he says, and then he’s quiet, just watching the game.


	38. Chapter 38

MANCHESTER, NOVEMBER 18, 2028

“So,” Zayn whispers. “I've got a question for you.”

“Go on,” Louis says quietly.

They're sitting toward the back of a very posh private theater space, where Harry teaches acting classes. Mia is on stage, completing an improvisational exercise with her friend Sasha while Harry squints at them and goes in circles around them, studying their movements with hawkish focus.

“A little looser in the arms, Mia,” he interrupts. “You're tensing up, it doesn't look natural.”

Mia complies and carries on with her scene.

“Is she good?” Zayn mutters. “I haven't seen enough of her actin’. I mean, I know _we_ think she's good, ‘cos she's ours, but like --”

Louis nods. “I think she's got natural talent,” he says. “She's got a lot of presence. Got your freak lungs, she can really bring down the house when she wants.”

Zayn laughs self-consciously. “Cool.”

“Good work, girls,” Harry says. “Alright, Ian and Kenny next…”

Two bored boys who have spotty faces and look like they come from old money take the stage. Mia moves to the side to go engage in some preening and fussing with Sasha, and then they whisper to each other and giggle. After a bit of this, Mia looks up and spots her parents. Her face lights up, and she darts up the aisle to them.

“Hi!” she exclaims. Zayn gets up and moves into the aisle and she collides with him, hugging him hard. Louis watches them, a bit wistfully.

“You made it!” she says, gazing up at him. “I didn't know if your flight would get back in time.”

“I made sure it would,” Zayn tells her.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, pouting. “It's been ages.”

“Sorry, love… you know how these tours are, but I've got a month off now. Nothin’ scheduled whatsoever, I'm all yours.”

Mia looks over at Louis, who smiles at her.

“Are you two fighting?” she asks, sing-songy.

“We're gettin’ along just fine,” Louis says, and winks. She gives him a knowing look and pulls back from Zayn.

“I have to get back,” she says, apologetically.

Zayn ruffles her hair, which is so much like his. “Go on.”

She bounces away. Zayn smiles as he watches her go.

Louis glances at Harry, who is looking up into the audience, now. He sees him lock eyes with Zayn. His face changes, but after an awkward beat or two, he raises his hand in a half-hearted wave. Zayn follows suit.

He sits back down next to Louis.

“Well,” he mutters, “that's never not gonna be weird…”

Louis looks over at him. Zayn is still strikingly handsome. He's getting gray at the temples, and his face is thinning out, but his eyes are as beguiling and lively as ever.

Louis doesn't particularly want to notice this. He laces his hands and rests them against his stomach. “We made a good one,” he says.

Zayn nods emphatically.

They don't say anything for a while, watching Ian and Kenny improv a scene about being at Tesco when a zombie apocalypse hits. Louis is of the mind that the sketch is uninspired and neither of these kids have the energy or chops that Mia does, but he knows he's biased.

“Y’know, it's you who's the theater kid,” Zayn says after a while. “You ought to take more credit.”

“Trust me, I take plenty. Liam takes a bit, too.”

Louis settles back in his seat. He's got his feet kicked up on the seat in front of him.

“Right, and how are things at home?” Zayn says quietly. “You and the missus?”

“Good,” Louis says, with a nod. “He's doing well.”

Zayn clears his throat and pulls a joint from his pocket. “Want to hit this?”

Louis lets out an incredulous splutter of a laugh. “Zayn, we’re around kids!”

Zayn just looks at him, grinning wolfishly. Louis feels his resolves weakening.

“C’mon,” he says. “This strain doesn’t smell. Doesn’t really get you high, either, just mellows you out. ‘S’like smoking a Xanax.”

“What's the point of putting it in a joint at all?” Louis grumbles, taking it from him, lighting it and taking a hit.

“Nostalgia for us pensioners, I guess,” Zayn shrugs, and takes a hit of his own. “Sorta hate that it's legal. This isn't cool of us at all.”

“Still isn't legal to do it in public,” Louis reminds him. “So we're a _bit_ cool.”

“Hey,” Harry calls. “You smoking up there?”

Everyone looks up at them. Mia starts giggling, likely because Harry is funny when he's annoyed, and she likes it when Zayn and Louis goof off together. Louis feels a bit embarrassed, but more amused.

“Just sharin’ a fag, Styles,” he calls back.

“Take it out front,” Harry says in his schoolteacher voice, and returns to giving the pair of posh boys feedback on their skit.

Louis and Zayn quietly excuse themselves, and go finish the joint out in the alley beside the building. It's drizzling a bit, and they lean into each other's space as they smoke.

“So how's _your_ missus?” Louis says, to head off any flirting.

Zayn shrugs. “Not great,” he admits. “We’ll split before the year’s out, honestly. Nina’s just dropped the news that she was cheating quite a bit at the time, an’ like, ain't sure the baby's mine -- actually, she's quite certain it’s not, as it turns out I was out of town --”

Louis is completely blown away by this news, as well as the nonchalance with which it’s delivered. He gapes at Zayn. “Christ!”

Zayn makes a noncommittal expression to indicate he's already accepted the situation. “It's probably for the better, really,” he says. “I'd actually want to do it properly this time, not like with Mia, and me an’ her weren't gettin’ along anyway…”

Louis nods. “I was never a big fan of hers,” he admits.

Zayn gives him a lop-sided grin. “Oh, I knew that, mate. I saw how you got whenever I brought her around yours.”

“She was a bit too fond of Mia,” Louis mutters. “And I didn't like her buyin’ her makeup. She's only a year seven.”

Zayn finishes off the joint.

Louis brushes his hands on his trouser fronts. “Listen,” he says. “Don’t feel like you've got to dwell on how things have been with Mia. It was a hard situation, but you got it on track, you got things to a good place. You _are_ her dad, Zayn.”

“But I've never been with her for the day to day,” Zayn says. “And that is what it is… I wasn't ready for it, so. But I'm ready now. It's just got to be with someone I've got a good thing with.”

He sighs and looks away, adjusting his watchband.

“Right, and I want that for you,” Louis says, honestly. “I want you to find that.”

Zayn nods, squinting. “Have you listened?” he says. “To my new stuff.”

“No,” Louis admits. “You ever get around to listenin’ to One Direction’s final record?”

“I actually did,” Zayn says defensively. “Well, I've heard a song or two on the radio. And I didn't turn them off, like.”

“Wow, cheers,” Louis says, laughing. “High praise.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “It came out how many years ago, now? Leave it.”

Louis puts his hands up in surrender.

“Why'd you pick Harry as an acting coach?” Zayn says, eyeing him. “Just t’ spite me?”

Louis laughs, a bit awkwardly. He isn’t sure if Zayn knows that _he_ knows about the summer of 2020.

“Yeah, I'm _that_ diabolical,” he cracks, brushing it off. “No, I just thought it was a good compromise… pickin’ someone I’ve got sway with, who won’t put ideas about running away to Hollywood in her head. Thought he and I ought to have an excuse to see each other once in a while. And he's a solid choice, y’know? He’s got a good career, an’ he's good at this, good with kids. Does it in LA, as well.”

“I know,” Zayn says quietly. “I keep up with him a bit.”

“Wish you two’d just set your pride aside,” Louis says. “You and I have.”

Zayn shakes his head. “You and I've got a daughter,” he says. “I've got nothin’ with Harry anymore.”

“Believe that if you want,” Louis says. He feels the pot starting to hit him, and it's mellowing him enough to make Zayn’s brooding demeanor stressful to him. “We ought to get back.”

 

*

 

They spend the rest of the class quietly catching up with each other between Mia’s sketches, and paying rapt attention every second she's on stage.

Afterwards, they go up and discuss her progress with Harry. For the most part, it's Louis talking, but he can feel the ice between Zayn and Harry thawing. They even address each other directly once or twice, and share a few laughs.

Afterward, Zayn and Louis part in the parking lot. Louis invites him to grab a bite with them, but Zayn demurs.

“I've really got to get back to Nina,” he says. “Got some things to get sorted.”

“Alright, mate. See you soon,” Louis says, waving. Zayn bends a bit so Mia can run in for a hug, and he squeezes her.

“See you this weekend, Yas,” he murmurs.

“See you,” Mia says. “Remember, you're going to teach me to play pool.”

Zayn slides his sunglasses back down. “I won't forget!” he calls as he heads back to his car.

Mia is engrossed in her phone for most of the drive, but she finally sets it down and asks Louis, “What does he have to get sorted with Nina?”

“Oh, just baby stuff,” Louis says evasively.

“Baby stuff?”

Louis fiddles with the radio. He doesn't particularly want to delve into Zayn's business.

“Dad,” Mia presses him.

“Alright,” Louis says, putting his hands up in surrender. He leans forward to put the partition up, so their driver doesn’t overhear what he’s about to say. “Nina hasn't been quite treating him right, so she might not be in his life much longer. Just, like, be aware of that.”

“But she's having his _baby_ ,” Mia says, incredulous. “My half-brother! What’re you talking about?”

“It may not be your dad’s baby,” Louis says carefully. “Let's just leave it at that, love.”

“What?” Mia says, squinting at him. “Like what… she lied?”

“No…”

Mia leans into his line of vision, straining her seatbelt. He glances up at her. “Dad,” she says, exasperated. “Was she cheating, or...?”

Louis finds himself again uncomfortable with how precocious the children of her generation are. It doesn't help that she's got his stubborn, independent streak.

“What do you know about that?” he says warily. “That's mature subject matter.”

“Oh, come on, Dad! I know how babies are made, okay? And I know what cheating is, I read the rags, I know that like, uncle Niall’s getting bashed everywhere because he's done it with his agent’s girlfriend --”

“Let's drop it,” Louis interrupts sternly. “That's all adult business, alright?”

Louis doesn't like treading anywhere near this sort of topic with her, especially not since she's plenty old and shrewd enough now to dig up the awful stories everyone wrote about him after she was born.

“Well, anyways, you never liked Nina,” Mia accuses. She kicks her feet up on the seats across from them.

Louis makes a face. “Apparently with good reason!”

“And you're hard on Zayn, even when things aren’t his fault,” Mia says, and he can tell she's just testing his patience now, because there's very little energy behind what she's saying.

“Get your dirty shoes off the seats, love,” Louis tells her. “I'm no such thing. Now drop it.”

She rolls her eyes and takes her feet down. “Can we get Nando's, still?”

“Yeah,” Louis relents.

“That's why you're my favorite dad,” she says cheerfully, and leans over to kiss him on the cheek before returning to her phone. Louis snorts fondly.

 

*

 

Back at the house, Louis gets a cup of tea and settles on the breakfast nook couch with his laptop. He opens up the album with his and Liam's wedding photos. He likes looking at them every so often.

The two of them standing barefoot on Makena Beach, smashing their cake in each other's laughing faces at the reception; Louis out on the dancefloor with Jay, and Liam dancing with Fizzy right behind him; Karen and Jay crying and sharing a handkerchief. Mia in a tiny pink tulle dress, sitting on Liam’s lap during toasts and then dancing on Oli’s feet. Sandy accompanying a drunk Niall on an acoustic version of _Lovertits_ , to Louis' great amusement; Lux briefing Mia on proper flower girl procedure. Kendall Jenner catching the bouquet, which was just a single gorgeous lily Liam bought the morning of, and then her depositing it on Harry’s lap as he blushed and laughed his arse off.

Perrie winking at the camera as she slides the garter up Kendall’s leg. A staged photo of Louis being given away to Liam by his entire crew of lads while Liam jokingly demanded, “So am I a lad at least by marriage, now?” Louis and Liam dancing together, gazing lovesick at each other, their faces lit warmly by the candlelight around the dancefloor. Them out surfing the next day, and them snogging in the golf cart halfway through the eighteen holes they played with Niall on Maui.

Zayn’s notable absence.

Louis has gone through most of them when Liam enters the room and comes up behind him, kissing him on the shoulder. “You love looking at these, don't you?” he comments fondly.

“Aye, well, look how good we looked back then."

“We still look good,” Liam murmurs flirtily.

“We ought to renew our vows,” Louis says. “We love parties and spectacle and attention, right? Why have this much of it only once?”

Liam laughs. “It's only been nine years,” he says. “Might look a bit tacky. Like, hey, everyone -- more presents, now!”

“Right, so we’ll do it at ten, then.”

“Much less tacky on an even number,” Liam jokes. Louis turns to him so they can meet lips. They begin to kiss, Liam sliding his hand down over Louis’ shoulder, his pecs and his torso, down to his belt, which he starts to flirtily play with. Louis feels a shiver down his spine and smiles against Liam's mouth, cupping his jaw with his hand as they kiss more deeply. Liam lets out a little moan, and Louis flicks his tongue into Liam's mouth.

“Feeling romantic, Payno?” he murmurs.

Liam nods emphatically.

Louis shuts the laptop hard and tosses it aside. He and Liam lazily make their way across the house and up the stairs while kissing and groping each other. Liam's hands slide into Louis’ jeans and he squeezes his arse, hard, much to Louis’ delight.

“Kids?” Louis murmurs as they pass the threshold of the bedroom.

“Oliver’s at piano, Mia’s with a tutor down in the basement,” Liam says, his breath ragged. He begins to undress Louis, and vice versa.

Liam lays Louis down on the bed and begins to finger him, gripping his jaw with his other hand. Louis moans with pleasure.

“Get a little rough,” he begs him. “You haven't been rough with me in ages.”

“Okay,” Liam promises, giving him a quick kiss. “You're still on the pills, right?”

“‘Less you want to start trying,” Louis murmurs, writhing back against the covers as Liam’s fingering grows in effort and intensity.

“Wouldn't be a good time now, would it,” Liam counters, “now that you've got to oversee that launch in the states come May...”

“Shit, you're right,” Louis says, and lets out another moan.

Liam slips his boxers the rest of the way off, and Louis reaches out and strokes his hard cock lovingly. Liam puts his hand on Louis’ as he slides into him, and then Louis wraps his legs around Liam’s back so Liam can fuck him as deep as possible while jerking him off between their stomachs.

Louis gives himself over to Liam completely, letting all thoughts vanish from his head and allowing himself to enjoy being fucked at a base mammalian level. It’s so unusual anymore that they can have sex without actively scheduling it, and although they don’t mention it, it bothers both of them as red-blooded men who are quite attracted to each other and like to act on it freely. Liam pounds him, with practised skill but feverish urgency.

Liam abandons stroking Louis’ cock in favor of snaking a tattooed arm around his waist and pulling him close as he comes inside of him with a happy shudder. Louis kisses him all over his brow and nose and strokes his hair, and Liam nuzzles up against him before sliding down the bed to suck his now-leaking cock.

“God,” Louis moans, gripping the bedsheets in his fists.

It feels absolutely fantastic when he comes, as he hasn’t rubbed one out in a few days. Liam readily swallows his come and makes his way back up Louis’ body, kissing his thighs and hipbones, the dip of his waist and the hollow under his ribs, and then cradles Louis’ jaw with his hand and kisses him deeply, making him taste himself. Louis bites his lip and Liam laughs against his mouth.

“Love you,” Liam murmurs sweetly, kissing him on his stubbly cheek, his arms still wrapped around him.

“Love you too,” Louis says, gazing at him.

Liam kisses his cheek. “I do like the renewing vows idea,” he says. “I’d like for Oliver to get to go... Maybe an anniversary thing? And we can have it in England this time, or Ireland… just close friends and family...”

“Sounds perfect,” Louis murmurs. “Ireland sounds nice. I want it to be the beach, again… I love the beach.”

“I know you do,” Liam says lecherously, alluding to the beach sex Louis initiated the morning before they got married, in an attempt to calm his jangled nerves. Louis grins at him.

Liam starts to tickle him. Louis slaps his hand away and rolls over, laughing.

“Zayn’d actually come this time,” he says quietly.

Liam rests his palms on the bed and sighs. “I hope so,” he says.

 


	39. Chapter 39

FEBRUARY 20, 2029

_Sorry, Hollywood’s eligible bachelors and bachelorettes. It looks like two of the hottest singletons around have just taken each other off the market. We guess the allure of having both been in One Direction is just too hard to deny._

_Yep, you guessed it -- R &B crooner Zayn Malik (35) and boybander-turned-actor Harry Styles (34) are officially rumored to be an item. After more than a decade of noticeably avoiding each other at industry events, the two were unexpectedly spotted cozying up together at a party in the Hills last Friday. Now according to some eagle-eyed fans on Twitter, Styles has been spotted leaving Malik’s home in Malibu in the wee hours of Monday morning._

_This would make for the second couple to come out of popular ‘10’s boyband One Direction, after the power couple of heavy-hitting pop mogul Louis Tomlinson and much sought-after producer Liam Payne made it official in a Maui ceremony nine years ago. They even have a son together: Oliver, 7._

_To make things more awkward, Tomlinson and Malik also have a child together -- 13-year-old Mia Yasmeen, who made her red carpet debut at the Grammys with Tomlinson and Payne this month, and has reportedly since been courted as a model for campaigns by youth-friendly companies like Aerie. Malik has no other children._

_Ever since Malik left the band in 2015, One Direction was plagued by hiatuses and stalled music releases, until the remaining four officially and amiably called it quits in 2024 after releasing their eighth and final album._

_Niall Horan, the remaining uncoupled member of 1D and the lone beta of the band, split from ex-wife Barbara Palvin in ‘23 after a long estrangement, and is reportedly single, though he and Palvin have been spotted out and about several times since the new year began. He recently released a cover album of Irish folk ballads to wide critical acclaim -- unfortunately, despite this success, there are no members of One Direction left for him to date. Poor Niall._

_Reports of custody spats, inter-family feuds and personal grudges between the Malik and Payne/Tomlinson camps have persisted for years, bolstered by colorful comments made on Twitter and to the press by family and friends. The bad blood seems to have died down... for now, anyway._

_On top of this, the oft-troubled Malik (he did a brief stint in rehab for depression and alcohol abuse in ‘22) has had a long string of flame-out relationships -- most recently his ended engagement to actress Nina Demarco, 29, which was dogged with cheating rumors on both sides until a bombshell dropped last month that her recently born son, Mystik, was not Malik’s after all._

_Styles is a more private character, historically opting for low-profile romances with older alphas. Styles’ omega status was only officially revealed in a tell-all interview in ‘25, which many saw as a publicity grab during a time in which his career had stalled._

_And like we said, Styles and Malik have appeared to be giving each other the cold shoulder for years, before the shocking news of their involvement dropped last week._  

_So only time will tell if this budding courtship will cramp already-strained relations amongst the former boybanders. Who knows? Maybe Styles will become a welcome part of this very modern family._

_This kind of sunny arrangement would, of course, require Payne/Tomlinson Inc. to actually be aware that their erstwhile bandmates and sometimes-friends are sleeping together. TMZ caught up with Payne in London yesterday as he was leaving a recording studio: watch the video here. Reporter Zac Brown asks Payne if he’s aware that Malik and Styles are rumored to be together. _

_Payne responds like someone who isn’t caught at all off-guard: he gapes at Brown and says, “What? What? They’re_ what _?” before security ushers him into a car._

_As entertaining as that clip is, it would be ten times moreso if TMZ had been able to get to pintsize powerhouse Tomlinson first, instead._

_This story has it all, people: baby daddy drama, exes, British people, the drama of a broken up band (will we ever get a full One Direction reunion, now? Is this what it felt like to love the Beatles?), blended families, Styles and Malik’s beautiful faces touching, and cranky middle-aged people with long-standing grudges._

_Mazel tov, Zayn and Harry. You’ll need it._


	40. Chapter 40

LONDON, FEBRUARY 21, 2029

Louis hasn't smoked in years, and yet here he is, smoking like a chimney and pacing the entire length of the very large first floor of the house, from the back door all the way to the grand foyer and back like he’s a Tennessee walking horse.

Liam is just sitting in the kitchen, nursing the same cup of tea for as long as he can and staying out of his husband’s way.

Finally, at half past twelve, the front gate buzzes.

“I said noon!” Louis calls, staring down at his watch as he strides to the front door. “You saw my text? I said _noon_ sharp.”

“You did say noon, babe,” Liam affirms as he steps out in the hallway.

“Can you all quit yelling, I’m on the phone!” Mia hollers from upstairs.

“Disrespectful,” Louis says to Liam, as Liam joins him in the foyer and gently herds him toward the door.

“Mims or them?”

“Them! Late! Considering the reason they’re over!”

“Okay,” Liam says, and he wheels Louis around, “let’s breathe, alright? Breathe with me on a count of ten.”

Louis very theatrically rolls his eyes, but he tries to relax in Liam’s grip and breathes along with him. Behind them, the doorbell rings.

“Fuck it,” Louis says, and pulls himself free from Liam’s grip to answer the door.

He yanks it open. Zayn is standing there, totally un-self-conscious, looking his usual amount of broodingly handsome and even smiling a bit at seeing Louis.

“Hey,” he says.

Harry is well behind him, a few steps down on the front walk-up, arms folded and looking down at the ground.

“Come in, it’s cold out,” Louis tells them, and turns to stride away, a few steps out ahead of everyone. Behind him, he hears Liam awkwardly say, “So how was your drive over?”

“Same as it’s been for the last thirteen years,” Zayn mutters, and laughs.

“I like the hydrangeas out front,” Harry says, very softly, like reminding Louis he’s there will provoke his ire.

“Oh, those are mine!” Liam says, cheery. “Planted them myself. Wasn't sure of them at first, but they trimmed up nicely, I think.”

“They must be gorgeous in the summer,” Harry says.

“They are!” Liam chirps anxiously.

“Alright, have a seat, lads,” Louis instructs them as they all gather into the sitting room.

“Does anyone want tea?” Liam says, clasping his hands together as he sits and then immediately popping back up. Louis forces him down again with a hand on his shoulder.

“Lucille can bring tea,” he says.

Zayn puts his hands up. “We’ve ‘ad tea,” he says, as Harry simultaneously says, “I had tea.”

“ _We_ had tea, yeah,” Harry amends quietly, then laces his hands and stares at the rug. “This is nice,” he comments, indicating it.

“I bought it off your girl at Sotheby’s,” Louis tells him. “Melinda? Melissa?”

“Oh, Melanie. I love Melanie,” Harry says, nodding. “She sold me that, um -- the statue I’ve got --”

“Right, sorry, but this is fuckin’ stupid,” Zayn says. “Can we just get this over with? What d’you want to do, Louis, beat us with brooms in the front garden while we apologize, or what?”

Louis looks at him, offended. “What do you think I am?”

“Petty,” Zayn says, with a shrug. “I mean, no offense, mate. I’m petty about this sort of thing too.”

“No waaay,” Liam says, very quietly, much to the shock of everyone. Louis whips around to look at him, and starts laughing.

Liam’s ears go pink. He makes an apologetic face. “Sorry,” he says, “but, like, come on!”

“Right, no,” Zayn says, with a conciliatory gesture. “I admit it. That’s why I’m bein’ understanding, here.”

“There’s nothing to understand,” Louis says, and he does genuinely try to relax himself, then, because he can tell his harsh tone is making Harry turn inwards and shut himself away. “I’m just frustrated with you two, is all. You could have told us about this, but you didn’t, so now, like -- I couldn’t do anythin’ protect Mia from the fact that in three months, she’s had the whiplash of thinking you were having a baby with one woman and going to marry her, to seeing in the tabloids that you’re suddenly together with someone she’s thought of as an uncle all her life --”

Zayn glances up, and furrows his brow. Louis turns to see Mia hanging in the doorway, her phone held to her chest.

“Hi,” she says, with a little wave. “I heard my name? Hi, Harry.”

“Hi,” Harry says warily.

“I've got a question,” she says, and Louis knows her well enough that he’s already half-standing, waving her off when she adds, “So, are you my new daddy? ‘Cos I’ve already got three --”

“Out!” Louis hollers, his pulse quickening.

“Da-aad,” she complains. “Come on.”

“You aren’t funny,” he informs her. "Adults are talking, cheeky-arse."

She grins, then waves goodbye to everyone and departs. Harry snorts.

Louis sits again, queasy with the mental stress of this situation. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“She seems properly traumatized,” Zayn comments drily. “Gets that shit-stirring thing from you, by the way.”

“Gets it from both of us,” Louis tosses back.

Harry pulls a face and heaves a deep sigh. “I didn’t want this,” he mutters. “Honestly, this is _exactly_ what I didn’t want.” He seems to address this bit to Zayn, who looks back at him, aggrieved. “I don’t like this sort of complicated shit.”

“You sure know how to pick them, then,” Louis says.

Zayn scoffs.

“I usually do,” Harry drawls, clearly annoyed. “I do the impulsive thing one time, and now you're all mardy... “

“Aye, so the tables are turned, for once,” Louis says.

“Stop,” Liam says, standing and putting his hands up. “Everyone stop, please.”

They all turn and look up at him, chagrined and awaiting instructions, and Louis feels like they’ve instantly time-traveled to fifteen years ago -- despite the gray hairs in Liam’s scruff, and the fine lines on his hands and around his eyes.

Liam takes in a deep breath and puts his hands on his hips.

“Zayn,” he says. “Harry. Louis is only upset because this came as such a shock to us. I know you two both like your secrets, and I’m sure you didn’t intend for your relationship to get put on blast, I’m sure you’re annoyed and angry and stressed out over it right now. We’ve all been there, obviously, and it’s bollocks.”

Zayn and Harry both nod.

“Louis isn’t just someone you know, Zayn,” Liam says to him, sternly. “He isn’t just like, some friend of yours. You have a child together, and we’re all in the public eye. You do owe him this sort of news, because Louis likes to prepare Mia to hear and see things that are confusing or upsetting or significant, because she goes to school and gets shit about it from her peers. And, look -- being in Mia’s life for all of it, I’ve seen what she’s gone through with the things people say about the three of us. And…”

Liam bites his lip and sighs.

“It’s difficult,” he says. “She’s got it way harder than Oliver. I’ve seen the toll it’s taken on her, everyone knowing her business and her family’s business and using it to blast her at school. And she used to be this happy-go-lucky kid, and I know part of it is getting older, but I’ve seen how sarcastic and defensive she’s had to get just to stay ahead socially, and how she’s had to learn to make those awful jokes about herself before someone else does. It isn’t something you want to see your daughter have to do. And Louis shouldn't, but he does feel responsible, and I know it breaks his heart. So…”

Liam spreads his hands.

“I love Mia more than anythin’, you know that,” Zayn says, directly to Louis, his face plaintive. “I would have warned her or you, I swear. I didn’t -- we had no idea this was going to break. We’d been so careful. We were at one private party, all people we both knew, we cuddled up for all of five seconds -- we didn’t think --”

“How long?” Louis interrupts him. “How long’s this been going on?”

Zayn clears his throat, and he and Harry glance at each other.

“Late December,” Zayn says. “You had me take Mia to actin’ class ‘cos Lottie surprised you for your birthday? She went to Sasha’s after, so we were there at the theater alone, and we sort of just got to talking...”

Harry plays with the laces on his boot, not looking at anyone.

“So it’s only been two months,” Louis says, relieved that it hasn’t been longer. “I mean, is this stable? Is it steady? You’ve tried before.”

“I was a different person before,” Zayn says intently. “I was strugglin’, Louis, you know that.”

“I do,” Louis says, his voice twisted. “I do know that.”

He looks down at his hands in his lap, at the watch on his wrist and at his wedding band. He feels frustration rising in him, throttling him.

“‘Scuse me,” he says hoarsely, and he leaves the room.

Louis isn’t entirely sure where he’s going, but he ends up in the back, kicking footballs hard at the net despite that he had a meeting this morning and is still dressed in work clothes. He drives them in mindlessly, as hard as he can, focusing on nothing else.

Eventually he hears the back door open and shut, and he expects it to be Liam, but it’s Zayn’s voice he hears calling, “Hey.”

Prickly self-consciousness descends on Louis.

“Hey,” he calls, hitting another one so hard that his foot stings from the impact.

Louis hears his light steps in the soft grass, and he tenses up, but then Zayn is upon him and turning him around. He pulls Louis into his arms, holding onto him tightly. Louis fights it for a moment and then relaxes into his grip, burying his face against Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn lightly trails his fingers up Louis’ back. Louis hesitates, then wraps his arms around Zayn.

“You don’t think it kills me, mate?” Zayn whispers. “Knowin’ that if things had been this good between us thirteen years ago, I could’ve had you? Could’ve made a family with you and our baby?”

“Stop,” Louis admonishes him, full of prickly, painful grief. “Don’t…”

“Don’t get cross with me,” Zayn says, and he strokes the back of Louis’ head and kisses his temple. “Harry and me, we’re good together… He’s good for me, alright? I like the bloke I am now, when I’m with ‘im. Quiet, like. Gentle. I can stop and sort of just… slow down. It isn’t like you an’ me… I sometimes really hated who I was around you, no offense. It isn’t your fault. ‘S just who we are.”

“I know,” Louis says, starting to tear up.

“It’s always going to hurt that we couldn’t make it work,” Zayn murmurs. “Hurts me every time I look at Yas and see your face an’ mine, and remember, like, lyin’ awake at night in me mum’s house, thinkin’ about you and Liam, thinkin’ about you pregnant with my baby and him touching you… Used to be the worst thing I could imagine. Used to torture myself with it.”

Louis shivers in the cool air.

“Now, I’m just glad you had somebody, I’m glad she grew up in a nice home where nobody screamed at each other or threw shit, I’m glad she didn’t have just us as parents. I’m glad she had a stable place to live while I got myself sorted, over the years.”

“You ought to be with Harry,” Louis murmurs. “If it’s anybody. It ought to be him.”

“I didn’t know he’d have me,” Zayn confesses. “Never thought in a million years that he’d come back to me again. I thought I’d fucked things up for good, with ‘im. But he’s got a good heart, he doesn’t hold grudges.”

“Not like me,” Louis says stiffly.

“Hey, or me...” Zayn shifts against him. “Let me go, alright, love? Just, like, say goodbye to what we could never be to each other. I did, years ago… I had to, or I’d have drove myself fuckin’ crazy. Life is good, right now. We can’t dwell on shit that’s years past. I’m happy, Louis, I’m so happy. You are too.”

Zayn draws back from him slightly, and gazes into his eyes. Louis looks up at him, a bit tearful, but with a strange peace and calm beginning to settle deep into him -- in his veins, in his very bones.

“I am,” Louis admits. “I’m really happy. I’ve been really happy.”

Zayn kisses him on the mouth, tenderly, lovingly. Louis tips his head up and kisses him back. They cling to each other, out of regret, and pain, and the overpowering release of a final goodbye.

After a short time they separate, and Zayn gives Louis another kiss, this one on the forehead.

“Want a smoke?” Louis says, his voice soft and thick with emotion.

Zayn nods emphatically, and Louis pulls his cigarettes from his pocket.

 

*

 

Back inside, Louis watches with a complicated mix of fondness and discomfort as Zayn goes to Harry and sits next to him, reassures him with a hand over his shoulder and gentle nuzzling. Harry smiles in a way Louis doesn’t usually see him smile anymore; an open, unshy and very genuine way, with his teeth showing. Zayn gives him a light kiss, and Louis looks away.

Liam comes up behind him with a tray full of cups of tea and little sandwiches. He sets it on the coffee table and then joins Louis back in the doorway.

“Lucille made stuff,” he murmurs. “I told her she didn’t have to, but…”

“They’re happy,” Louis says softly. “Isn’t that barmy? They’re actually really happy together.”

Liam nudges Louis out into the hallway, so they can talk privately.

“Zayn’s changed a lot,” he points out, with a lot of weight behind his words.

Louis nods, and the two of them share in a significant look. He appreciates moments like this in his marriage, where he and Liam lean on the years and years they’ve spent together and the hundreds of thousands of conversations they’ve had, where they can say just a few words to each other and intimate a much deeper level of mutual understanding.

Something occurs to Louis, suddenly, and he starts laughing.

“I’ve just remembered Niall’s fuckin’ -- he’s hiking Mount Shasta,” he says. “He’s not back ‘til next week, he's got _no_ idea.”

Liam starts laughing too. “Holy shit, that’s right,” he says. “He’s going to lose his mind.”

Louis bends over, cackling. Zayn and Harry glance over. They head back in, Liam’s arm around Louis.

“Niall’s on a mountain,” Louis says to Harry, as he settles back on the sofa with his husband. “Remember? No cell service?”

Harry grins and nods. “That was the first thing I thought about when I saw the story leaked,” he says. “I mean, like, second after you.”

“Yeah, ‘cos Harry called me,” Zayn says, “and out of nowhere, no hello or anythin’, he goes, ‘Niall’s going to kill you when he gets down off that mountain. ‘E’s going to brain you with a golf club.’”

“And he might just,” Harry intones, sipping his tea. “So you watch out. Don’t walk into any dark alleys.”

“Look in the backseat before you start driving,” Liam says, and they all laugh. “I could see Niall garroting someone. It’s always the nice ones.”

“He’ll come around,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “It’s just him being protective over me, after… you know.”

“He’s had a grudge on for years,” Zayn says emphatically. “When _Harold_ is the one who threw a shoe at my head.”

“You deserved it,” Harry mutters. He looks up at Louis knowingly, and Louis can’t help but grin.

“See,” Liam says happily, “look how we’re all getting on, now. Just needed to clear the air.”

“Just needed daddy to make us behave,” Zayn says, and he and Liam exchange a glance and a rare smile with each other.

There’s a very small ahem from the doorway, and then all turn to see Oliver standing there with large worried eyes, clutching his bearded dragon.

“Hi Uncle Zayn, hi Uncle Harry,” he says, hurrying in. He goes straight to Liam, who raises his eyebrows at him as his son thrusts his lizard into his face.

“Philip’s acting all weird,” Oliver says softly, looking up at him. “I think he’s sick. Is he sick?”

“Love, your dad isn’t a lizard doctor,” Louis tells him gently, tousling his hair.

“Should we take him to the doctor, then?” Oliver says, looking at Louis pleadingly.

“Let’s go have a look at your lizard care book first, kiddo,” Liam says patiently, standing up and reluctantly holding the lizard in his hands as he leaves with Oliver at his heels.

Harry seemed tuned out for most of this, but he looks to Louis with a bemused smile and says, “Philip? Like… the prince?”

“Don’t look at me,” Louis says, laughing. “He's got a lot of Liam in him, that one. So, lads…”

There’s an awkward pause. No one is quite sure what to say, and they all seem to realize at once that Liam had been acting as a buffer.

“Centaur,” Harry says, suddenly.

Louis and Zayn both squint at him.

“The statue,” Harry says. “From Melanie? It’s a centaur.”

“You’ve got a centaur statue in your house?” Louis says, laughing.

“In my living room,” Harry confirms. “You haven’t been over in a while.”

“What’s Harry got in his living room?” Liam says, appearing back in the room with four beers in his hands. “Lizard’s just hibernating, by the way. No cause for alarm.”

“Good work, detective,” Louis says appreciatively, taking one of the beers. “Harold's got a centaur statue, apparently.”

“Like a horse man?” Liam repeats, puzzled. “Mate, you’re so weird.”

“I am not!”

“Has it got a penis?” Liam says, sitting and squinting at him. Louis cackles, reaches over and squeezes Liam’s thigh.

“Of course that’s _your_ question,” Harry says, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation. “Not like, who made it, Harry? How old is it? How much is it worth? Is it nice to look at? No, all he wants to know is if it’s got a penis.”

“Someone’s touchy! Spend a lot on it?” Liam says knowingly, and takes a swig of his beer.

“It cost a fortune,” Harry admits. “And it’s supposed to be a conversation piece, and everyone just thinks it's a laugh. Even my art friends!”

“I asked about it,” Zayn says, playing with Harry’s hair. “When you first ‘ad me over.”

“You were trying to get me in bed,” Harry mutters.

“Right, and it worked,” Zayn says, grinning.

Harry rolls his eyes. “So are we alright here?” he says to the group at large. “No more awkward conversations?”

“If you think you’ll get through life completely avoidin’ awkward conversations, then you ought to go live on Mount Shasta with Niall,” Louis informs him.

“Today, at least,” Harry amends. “Today, can we just enjoy each other’s company? We haven’t all been in the same room together in a decade.”

“Yeah, we ought to play Pictionary, or summat,” Zayn says, stroking Harry’s shoulder. They’re sitting close on the couch with their legs intertwined; it’s strange for Louis to see.

“Bridge,” Liam says. “Bridge is a four person game.”

“I’d be tickled if you told me you knew how to play bridge,” Harry says, smiling. “I don’t even know how to play bridge.”

“I’ve evolved,” Liam defends himself. “Ask Louis.”

Louis meets eyes with Harry and makes a noncommittal hand gesture. “In some ways,” he says. “But I can confirm he’s still got no idea how to play bridge.”

Harry chuckles.

 

*

 

Harry and Zayn don’t leave until it’s dark out and the kids are starting to mill around, looking for dinner. Liam and Louis stand in the front, waving goodbye and yelling at them to not forget to keep an eye out for their vow renewal save the date card. Harry gives them a solemn salute in acknowledgement.

“I thought that would be weirder,” Louis murmurs as their car pulls away. Liam pulls him close and kisses his head.

“Me too,” Liam agrees. “I thought it’d be more tense.”

“We’re all grown-ups now,” Louis says wistfully. “Like, real ones.”

Liam turns him and then tips his chin up, meeting his lips for a kiss.

“Not us,” he murmurs with a rakish smile. “Never us.”

Louis melts a little, going doe-eyed and falling against him.

“Gross,” Oliver says, from behind the screen door.

They turn and see Oliver and Mia. Mia is laughing.

“It’s kind of sweet,” she says.

“No, it’s gross,” Oliver says decisively. “Can we have dinner, now?”

“Go holler at Lucille,” Louis tells them.

“We want to eat with _you_ ,” Mia says, gesturing expansively. “You’re the one that’s always banging on about how families should have dinner together.”

“Fine, go sit down, we’ll be there in a minute,” Louis says, flapping his hand at his children. They depart with great exaggerated sad faces.

Louis turns back to Liam.

“Right… where were we?” he says, at his most mischievous and flirty.

Liam smiles and resumes snogging him, giving his arse a playful grope as he does. 

 

*

 

That night as Liam and Louis are reading the trade mags, Oliver runs in and climbs up in bed between them.

“Hey,” Louis says sternly, lowering his glasses. “We put your arse to bed a half hour ago.”

Oliver looks at him with big, guilty eyes and gives him a pleading smile.

“Alright, come here,” Louis relents. Oliver comes over and collapses between them. Liam starts tickling him, and they both start giggling. Louis joins in, but after a few minutes admonishes Liam for getting him riled up.

“Sorry, sorry,” Liam says, making a conciliatory face and patting the pillows for a red-faced, punchy Oliver to sit down.

Oliver tosses himself down theatrically. “I don’t understand,” he complains.

“What, that it’s bedtime?” Louis says, setting down his magazine.

“I don’t understand how Uncle Harry can be Zayn’s boyfriend,” he says, looking up at Louis petulantly.

“Oh,” Liam sighs.

Louis clasps his hands together in resignation. He expected this might be coming, but had hoped that Oliver would be too bored by the grown-up affairs at work here to inquire -- or that Mia would have briefed him on it, the way he used to brief Lottie on concepts above her pay grade.

“C’mere, doodle bug,” Louis says, spreading an arm for Oliver to snuggle up under. “Alright. What do you know, for starters?”

“I know Uncle Harry and Zayn are boyfriends,” Oliver says, and then sits looking at Louis expectantly. Liam laughs.

“So not much,” Louis says with a sigh, removing his reading glasses and scratching the bridge of his nose where they left their imprint. “Right, then. Well, sometimes when people like each other in a certain way, they date, and call each other boyfriends or girlfriends or whatever. Uncle Harry and Zayn have liked each other for a while, and they finally got to a place where they could call each other boyfriends, so now they are.”

“But Zayn’s Mia’s dad,” Oliver says, confused. “I thought you said that you have to like someone to make a baby with them.”

“Ideally, yes,” Louis says, glancing at Liam, who puts his hands up as if to abandon all responsibility here.

“ _Coward,_ ” Louis mouths at him. Liam just shakes his head and snorts.

“So Zayn likes you _and_ Uncle Harry?” Oliver says.

Louis feels a swoop of discomfort. Liam’s legs are folded, and out of the corner of his eye Louis notices his foot begin to bounce.

“Love,” Louis says patiently, “Mia is thirteen, right? So Zayn and I liked each other fourteen years ago, when we made her.”

“You just stop liking people like that?” Oliver says, wide-eyed. “All of the sudden?”

“Not all of the sudden,” Louis assures him. “Like, for instance, your dad and I got married because we knew we wouldn’t quit liking each other.”

“Are Zayn and Uncle Harry getting married?” Oliver says.

Louis grimaces. “Maybe,” he says. “We’ll see.”

Liam chuckles.

“What?”

Liam shakes his head and glances up at him knowingly. “Your face,” he says.

“What about it?” Oliver says, studying Louis.

“Nothing, love,” Louis says, tousling his hair.

“Will they have a baby?” Oliver says, sliding out from under Louis’ arm to look at him straight-on.

“Oh, Christ,” Louis groans.

Liam starts full-out laughing. Louis picks up a slipper and chucks it at him. Liam puts up his arms in surrender.

“Would that be bad?” Oliver says. His eyebrows knit, and he gets a look like Liam does when he’s thinking hard and having difficulty doing so. “Wait, would it be my brother or sister?”

“No, love,” Louis tells him with a sigh. “It wouldn’t.”

“But it'd be Mia’s. And Mia’s my sister,” Oliver insists, increasingly resembling Liam the more baffled he grows.

“Yes, love, because you both came out of _me,_ ” Louis says patiently. “So you both look like me, yeah? And you grew up together?”

Oliver puts his hands on Louis’ stomach. “We came out of here, right?” he says, and looks up questioningly.

“Yes,” Louis says, attempting to gently peel Oliver’s little seven-year-old hands off of him while smiling at him indulgently. “Okay... Oli? You’re pressin’ on Daddy’s organs.”

Oliver, well-mannered as he is, immediately sits back. However, he isn’t deterred in his questioning whatsoever.

“What if you had a new baby?” he says, his round brown eyes narrowing.

“Then it’d be siblings with you and Mia,” Louis says.

“And not Uncle Harry’s baby either?”

“Aye, yes, but Harry hasn’t _got_ a baby, love!” Louis exclaims, exasperated.

Oliver observes him. “Do you not want him to?”

Liam is practically pissing himself with laughter on the other side of the bed. Louis whacks him in the arm, again.

“You’re undermining me!” he yells, trying not to laugh, himself.

“I’m sorry,” Liam says, grinning. “This is just, like -- priceless --”

“What’s funny?” Oliver says somberly, looking back and forth between them.

“Nothing, nothing,” Louis assures him. “Lad, I don’t care if Harry and Zayn have a baby. Really, I don’t.”

“Except that he’d probably sue Harry for copyright infringement,” Liam says under his breath, and gets another whack in the arm.

“Do people get married before they have babies? Or after?” Oliver says, clearly on a tear of awkward questions that he’s been holding back for a while.

“Usually before,” Louis says, heaving another great sigh. “Sometimes after. Sometimes never! I think it’s time for bed, now, kiddo.”

“So, why didn’t you marry Zayn?” Oliver says, with that childish innocence that makes it impossible for Louis to be angry with him for poking such old wounds with wild abandon.

“Because,” Louis says firmly, and he stands, picks Oliver up and hoists him over his shoulder, fireman-style. Oliver giggles and slaps at his back, helpless. “You marry people because you love them. I didn’t love Zayn, but I did love your dad. Alright?”

Louis glances behind himself at Liam, who’s gazing up at him warmly from over his glasses.

“Alright,” Oliver says agreeably, clearly out of steam for the night.

Louis carries Oliver back to his room and deposits him in bed, kisses his head, turns out his light and says, “Real goodnight this time?”

“Real goodnight, Daddy,” Oliver promises.

Louis returns to Liam and sidles up next to him under the covers. Liam pulls Louis’ close and kisses him, stroking his hair.

“You know I don’t regret anything,” Louis murmurs.

“I know, love.”

“You know it isn’t that I want Zayn to sit and pine after me forever, or summat. It just hurts to see him doin’ with someone else what he wasn’t capable of doin’ with me… Y’know? Hurt with Nina, an’ hurts especially with Harry, just ‘cos… I dunno, it’s _Harry,_ ” Louis says, gesturing and making a face.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve never really been attracted to Harry at all,” Liam says, chuckling. Louis likes to feel the rumble of his laughter in his chest.

“My prayers’ve been answered,” Louis says drily. Liam laughs harder.

“I just think sometimes about what you said all those years ago,” Louis says, and he clears his throat. A suddenly sober moment passes over him and Liam. “About me regrettin’ things.”

“Oh, babe… I was a scared, insecure twenty-two year old,” Liam says, sounding remorseful. “Barely twenty-two, even. I said a stupid thing, but we made the right choice. I don’t regret any of it... I know you don’t either. You’ve proven that to me a million times.”

Liam draws back a little and looks at him intently. Louis meets his eyes.

“You’ve always picked me, Tommo, every chance you got,” he says, his voice soft. “I’d have to be crazy not to see that.”

Liam flicks the light off and sets his own glasses aside. Intertwined, they sink lower in the middle of their marital bed, both exhausted but not quite wanting to separate to lie against their own pillows on their own sides. They end up falling asleep spooning.

 

*

 

Louis wakes the next morning to the sound of Oliver and Mia hollering at each other in the hall, with Liam’s morning wood jammed up against the small of his back and the imprint of a magazine on his face.

He sighs, and then starts laughing to himself. He pats Liam on the arm, getting a drowsy mumble from him in response, and gets up, throwing a robe on.

Louis pops his head in the hall bathroom that's the source of the noise.

“Tell Oli I was in here first,” Mia demands. Oliver shakes his head vehemently. “I'm serious! Tell him to use his own bathroom!”

“The shower in here's better!” Oliver retorts.

“I know that, that's why _I'm_ in here!” Mia says incredulously.

“I wanted to talk with you right quick, anyway,” Louis says to Mia.

Oliver whoops in victory and shoves her out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind them.

“Oh, cheers, Dad,” Mia says, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry,” Louis says, chuckling. “I just wanted to check on you… I know you said you didn't want to talk last night, but, I dunno. Oli came in and barraged me and Liam with questions, I was wonderin’ if you had any.”

Mia studies him with her canny, light eyes. Since she’s become a teenager, something about her often seems guarded, protective, but sometimes -- like now -- she seems to remember that Louis is an ally, not an adversary.

“About Dad and Harry?” she says, and shrugs. “I get it. I know they used to be together a long time ago. And I've seen them flirting at my acting class.”

“What?” Louis says, squinting at her.

“Yeah,” Mia says amiably. “Well, not in front of _you_. But sometimes if Dad came to watch and you took a call or whatever, he'd go and talk to Uncle Harry, and at first they were sort of weird and awkward with each other but then they started getting all gross and staring at each other and stuff. And then Dad would leave and Harry would like, go and drop shit and act moony for the rest of the time.”

“Don't swear,” he admonishes. “Christ… how didn’t I notice any of this?”

Mia has a good laugh at that. She makes a face like she's been put on the spot, and examines her hair for split ends.

“I didn't feel like they exactly wanted you to see… y'know?” she finally says.

Louis nods, understanding. “So,” he says, wanting to drag them back on-topic, “this wasn’t a big surprise, then?”

“Um,” Mia says. “I guess not. I was surprised he got a boyfriend so fast after Nina, but,” she sighs, “I guess you were right that she treated him badly… I guess you were right not to like her.”

Louis thinks there's nothing more satisfying than hearing his kid say _I guess you were right_ multiple times.

“Just making sure you're alright,” he says, squeezing her shoulder. “Not feeling confused or like things are shaken up, or anything.”

Mia shakes her head vehemently. 

“I'll be fine,” she says, seeming a bit amused by Louis’ concern. “I know Dad dates people, he's done it my whole life.”

“And what if they break up?” Louis says warily.

“I dunno,” she says, with a shrug. “Class might be a little awkward?”

Louis snorts and brings her in for a hug, tousling her hair. She makes an adolescent noise of complaint at the affection, but doesn't fight him.

“I hope they don't break up, though,” she says softly. “He seems, like, happy. They both do.”

Louis stills. “I hope so, too,” he murmurs, and kisses her on the head. “Go get ready for school, alright?”


	41. Chapter 41

LONDON, FEBRUARY 21, 2029

Zayn and Harry slide into Zayn’s new Viper, sharing in unspoken mutual relief that their visit was not quite the shitshow they had predicted.

Harry picks up a notebook that’s fallen on the floor of the passenger seat. “Is this more memoir notes?”

“Probably,” Zayn says, glancing at him nervously as he gets his keys out. “What’s that page?”

“Um… looks like stuff about your parents?” Harry murmurs, his face drawn with concentration as he skims it.

Zayn nods, relieved. There are some parts of what he's written so far that he would feel profoundly awkward having Harry read, especially considering the fragile newness -- if the third go-around can be considered _new_ \-- of their relationship. Stuff about his parents doesn’t qualify.

“How much have you written of this?” Harry says, glancing up at him. “You’ve got so many notes for it.”

“Like two hundred pages,” Zayn says, starting the car. Harry gapes at him.

“You’re not serious?” he says. Zayn just nods, slightly abashed. He’s hardly told anyone that he’s writing it; Louis has no idea. It feels self-indulgent, navel-gazing and silly of him.

“You’ve got to get this to a lit agent at some point,” Harry says, intently. “Everything I’ve read of it is good.”

“With the shit that's in there, probably it's going to ‘ave to be published after I'm dead, anyways,” Zayn jokes. Harry makes a face. “Jokin’, jokin’...”

“You need to write more things that aren't lyrics,” Harry says, seriously. “It’s good, I’m not just saying that. It’s got… what’s that word you used the other day?”

Zayn shakes his head. “Dunno.”

“It was like…” Harry squints and bites his bottom lip. Zayn looks over at him fondly. “Sounded like Versace?”

Zayn thinks about this for a moment, then starts laughing. “Verisimilitude?”

“Yes! It’s got that...”

Zayn keeps laughing as he pulls out of the drive. “That’s so... _you_ ,” he says. “Versace _._ Christ.”

“Don't you come after me, you smarty pants,” Harry admonishes, grinning. “Don't you dare.”

“You're cute,” Zayn tells him, smiling, rakish. “You know that?”

Harry glances over at him, handsome in an easy, relaxed way in a crimson button-down, dark jeans and dark boots. His curly, chin-length hair is mussed and full of product. He's aged so elegantly, the way only Harry could; he looks better now than he ever has, somehow. He makes his way through the world so easily, still: so bouncy, light on his feet, a ballerina.

Zayn is powerfully attracted to him.

“I'd love to fuck you right now,” Zayn murmurs to him. He'd usually keep that thought to himself, but on a day like today he reckons Harry should hear that sort of thing from him.

Harry gives him an easy smile, his green eyes glimmering. He slides back in his seat, his back arching slightly. Zayn is thankfully stopped at a light, so he can observe Harry’s body language with laser focus, his lips parted.

“Take me home,” Harry says softly. “And we'll see.”

“Don't tease me,” Zayn pleads. “Don't do me like that.”

“I'm not fucking in the car, Zayn,” Harry murmurs, looking at him from under thick eyelashes, biting down on his full, rosy bottom lip. He knows exactly what he's doing. Zayn shifts in his seat. Hot arousal is clenching in his gut, and he feels his cock divining the ultimate outcome here and beginning to harden in preparation.

“We've done it before,” Zayn reminds him, his voice low and ragged. Harry rolls his eyes and shakes his head, smiling bemusedly.

“Home,” he repeats. “I've got something in mind.”

“Fuckin’ oddball,” Zayn mutters, merging off onto their exit. “All ‘ese little fantasy scenarios and setpieces. Sometimes people ought to just fuck.”

“Where's the fun in that?” Harry murmurs, crossing his long legs.

 

*

 

Back at Zayn’s place, it's quiet in a way he loves. Harry is a good lover for him, in that way; he slinks through houses and flats like a ghost, light on his feet, not disturbing the peace. Zayn drops his keys in the crystal bowl by the front door and slips his shoes off. Harry wanders away and disappears. Zayn settles on the couch by the large front window, folds his legs and bounces his foot, waiting.

Harry returns, unbuttoning his shirt. His smile is disarmingly charming as always. Zayn spreads his legs and begins rubbing at his cock through his jeans.

Harry chastises him immediately. “No touching.”

“Can I touch you?” Zayn says, gazing at him.

Harry’s lips curl further up. “Only to undress me.”

Frustrated, Zayn reaches out and slaps his arse. Harry grabs his wrist, surprisingly hard.

“Behave,” he says.

“Fine,” Zayn bitches, putting his hands obediently on his thighs, already planning to fuck Harry extra hard for putting him through this.

Harry isn't as game as Louis, which is one of the things that drew Zayn to Louis back when he was young, dumb and full of come. Harry is fussier, more finicky and more about play, while Louis was down wherever, whenever, even once letting Zayn hit it in a backstage changing room when they had an extra ten minutes -- Zayn's hand pressed against the door and his other hand pressed to Louis’ mouth to stop him moaning.

Harry likes a bit of cat and mouse, and the older Zayn gets the more he realizes that he does too. He likes the novelty of a challenge, after all these years of getting what he wanted whenever he wanted it from whoever he wanted it from. Harry doesn't care how handsome and sultry-eyed he is, he's too sure of himself, he's known Zayn too long and too well. He doesn’t let him get away with anything.

Harry continues to strip for him, in graceful fluid motions. His shirt falls, a burgundy puddle on the white carpet. His eyes glitter as he begins to unbutton his jeans.

Zayn runs his hands over his thighs as he gets harder. He wants desperately to touch himself.

Harry slides his trousers down his legs. He's hard too, his cock a gorgeous bulge in his black briefs. Zayn stares, then reaches out and pulls them down and off his arse.

Harry lets him. He steps forward into Zayn's space, running his hands through his hair and scratching his scalp. His cologne has a rich, musky smell, like cloves or truffles. Zayn kisses him, under his ribcage.

“I said don't touch,” Harry says, but his low voice is warm.

“Said I could only touch to undress you,” Zayn murmurs. “But look… you're undressed.”

He trails a finger down, into Harry’s closely groomed pubes and then over his cock where it bobs between his legs. Harry shivers.

“I haven't really got to wear a condom, do I?” Zayn says hopefully.

Harry shakes his head. “No, I've got an implant.”

“I mean, like…” Zayn gives him a significant look.

“I'm clean,” Harry says slowly. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, immediately. “Yeah… you’re the first since Nina, and I got tested when she said she was cheatin’...”

“First since Nina?” Harry says, arching an eyebrow. “Am I that, really?”

“I’m a good boy now,” Zayn promises, grinning. “Church boy, now.”

Harry smiles widely and lowers himself onto Zayn’s lap, straddling him.

“Don't be too good a boy,” he says softly. His cock presses to Zayn's stomach, his arse grinding down on him, and Zayn lets out a satisfied nose. He plays with the head of Harry’s cock, gazing at him, and leans back against the sofa. They stroke and touch each other, then start making out.

“It's hot,” Harry murmurs, kissing up his neck and mussing his hair. Zayn groans a bit. “Watching you, seeing how bad you want me…”

“Such a shit you are, Styles,” Zayn says, swallowing, dizzied with arousal. Harry laughs softly.

Smoothly, Harry backs up and begins to guide Zayn into him. He lets out a soft moan. Zayn grips his waist with one hand, his thigh with the other. Harry flashes him a smile.

Harry feels incredible, as he always does, and he rocks on Zayn with the patient grace of a dancer. They establish a good rhythm fast, and Harry fists a hand in Zayn's hair, which is getting a bit long. Arousal pulses in Zayn at that, and he exhales hard.

“I love your cock,” Harry moans. Zayn grips him more tightly, leaving white finger marks against his thigh.

“Remember that time,” Zayn breathes, fucking up into him, gazing into his eyes. “We saw each other at the Bungalows, like ten years ago -- you was rubbin’ up all over that older bloke, but you kept starin’ me down? You wouldn't quit starin’ at me, with your hand rubbing him through his pants and like -- all fuckin’ sweaty, and I didn't say nothin’ to you, but I didn't leave, I went in the bathroom and I had myself off, came twice --”

Harry lets out an erotic gasp as he rides him harder, gets him deeper.

“I've been jerking it to that for years,” Zayn says, his words coming out rushed and pressured as he fucks into the clutching tight muscles of Harry, and Harry sighs with ecstasy in his ear.

“I remember that too,” he says, his voice soft.

“Should’ve followed me,” Zayn says, kissing his lightly freckled shoulder, his collarbone and his throat.

“I don't fuck in bathrooms,” Harry says, running both hands through Zayn's hair as he bounces on his lap. “And I was -- _ohh_ \-- was still mad at you --”

Zayn seizes Harry around the waist again, sliding a hand across his lower back and pulling him close so he can thrust into him harder. Harry cries out a bit, and then lets out a soft breath. His face is flushed with exertion, his eyebrows knit in concentration. He doesn’t make much noise, never has, but the sounds he does make are music to Zayn’s ears as he gets into a good run of rutting and groans, knowing the end is near.

Zayn comes in him, grabbing at his thighs and arse, and sighs with pleasure. Harry continues to thrust on him even after he’s blown, and it feels incredible, but is overstimulating to the point of pain. He inhales sharply, not quite sure if he likes it or not.

“Haz, Haz,” he murmurs, but Harry kisses him and finally relents. He climbs off of Zayn and pushes him onto his back on the couch, then straddles him again; Zayn’s come is leaking wetly out of him, traveling down his thigh and onto Zayn’s. His cock is quite hard, ruddy and leaking. Harry begins to get himself off in smooth, languorous gestures. Zayn just watches him, riveted.

“Tell me more about that night,” Harry says slowly, his eyes bright and fixed on Zayn.

Zayn does; he tells Harry all about it in his low, fucked-out voice, about how he was so hard under the table he couldn’t stand it anymore and went into the bathroom, about how much he wanted to hate Harry that night but couldn’t bring himself to, about how he came fast and hard and copiously. He tells Harry how he wanted to go out onto the patio, in front of the paparazzi and their friends and all those industry blowhards they both secretly hate, and jam his fingers into Harry’s mouth and arse, shove him hands and knees onto the stone floor and fuck him raw.

Harry takes this all in, closing his eyes, his dark, full lips parted slightly and his cheeks flushed. When he finally comes, he does so all over Zayn, all over his stomach and hips and chest.

They remain in position, both breathing hard.

“‘S that punishment for makin’ you talk to Louis about us?” Zayn says, indicating the come with his hand.

Harry grins. “No… it’s punishment for whatever happened between you two out in the garden.”

Zayn’s heart jumps in his chest. “What makes you say that?”

Harry climbs off of him. “I’m smarter than Liam,” he says lightly.

He walks away, with Zayn’s fingernail marks still bright pink on his round little arse.

“It was a goodbye,” Zayn calls after him. “I kissed him goodbye. That’s all it was.”

Harry doesn’t respond. He returns in about a minute, with a damp flannel in his hands. Zayn is relieved.

“I know,” Harry says simply, and starts to clean him up with gentle hands. “I know.”


	42. Chapter 42

COOLEY PENINSULA, AUGUST 5, 2029

As their rented jazz ensemble plucks away at a Sinatra song, Louis and Liam gently sway back and forth, having given up on genuine waltzing in favor of just being close with each other. Louis is pretty blitzed by now, and his heart feels impossibly full as he looks across the tented dance floor and sees all the people he loves most in the world, dancing with each other or seated at tables and talking quietly as the Irish Sea laps at the beach just meters away.

Nearby, Zayn and Harry dance with perfect graceful rhythm, clearly trying to show up everyone else and constantly tweaking each other's form. Louis has been wondering all night if Harry forced Zayn to take ballroom dancing classes at some point.

Mia and Oliver dance nearby, Oliver continually stepping on Mia’s shoes and apologizing, only for a patient Mia to laugh and tell him to stop apologizing and just quit stepping on her feet instead. Jay is observing this with great amusement.

“Tonight was good,” Louis murmurs, leaning his head against Liam's chest.

“Tonight was fantastic, Tommo,” Liam agrees. “Let's just get married over and over.”

“We did better this time,” Louis says, smiling. “You didn't vomit at all this morning...”

“I swear I had minor food poisoning,” Liam says defensively. “I think it was that spam thing.”

Louis laughs.

“That was the best moment of my life,” Liam tells him seriously, smoothing his hand over Louis’ hair. “Meeting you at the end of the aisle...”

Louis beams up at him, glowing. They kiss again.

“Do you two ever get tired of each other?” Lottie hollers good-naturedly from where she's sitting, talking with Oli and a few others -- including Perrie, who has been pointedly avoiding Zayn all night despite his repeated efforts to have a chat with her. “Jesus! Get married twice and they're still snogging like teenagers!”

Laughter breaks out across the crowd, including from Niall, who was previously engrossed in quiet conversation with a recently reconciled Barbara.

“I've heard ‘em fight,” Oli confirms. “Fight like wolverines, these two. It's just Louis always wins, so it's over fast.”

“That's it,” Louis agrees, and Liam kisses him again, sliding his hands over his waist.

As they sway in a circle, Louis looks out at everyone from over Liam's shoulder. He spots Zayn, who's looking over Harry’s shoulder the same way.

Zayn winks at him, and he winks back.

It only takes Louis a little while longer to grow tired of dancing, and he drags Liam away, out toward the beach so they can have some privacy.

“Oi!” Luke calls, bringing everyone’s attention to them. “Bit of how's your father, newlyweds?”

“Fuck off,” Louis calls genially, “we're just goin’ for a walk!”

There's a general consensus of doubt and obscenities from the lad crew. Zayn takes his leave of Harry to cover Mia’s ears, and she rolls her eyes and jokingly covers Oliver’s in turn.

“Use protection!” Niall hollers. Perrie cackles, and Jay slaps his arm fondly. Louis gives him the finger.

He continues pulling Liam away. They discard their shoes by a tentpole so they don't get sandy, and roll up their tuxedo trousers.

“Just to be clear,” Liam murmurs, his hand going to the small of Louis’ back as they walk away, “we aren't fucking, right?”

“No!” Louis exclaims, scandalized. “With our kids right up the beach? And your bad back? No, let's save it for the hotel room, lad.”

“So I am getting lucky tonight?” Liam whispers in his ear. Louis turns and grins up at him.

“Duh, Payno,” he says. “We just got married, after all.”

 

*

 

They’ve rented out the entire seaside hotel for the weekend, so once the reception’s dragged to a close, the hotel becomes the site of a massive drunken gabfest that ends in spectacular fashion, with a wasted Niall, Ed and James Corden hanging off of each other, singing Danny Boy, and then Niall vomiting onto a sofa which is quickly vacated by a grossed-out Leigh Anne.

Once they’ve seen everyone off to their rooms, Liam becomes a veritable caveman and practically tosses Louis over his shoulder in his frantic hurry to get him upstairs. They run headlong into Zayn and Harry in the hallway.

“Oh, hey,” Louis says breathlessly, as Liam makes a valiant attempt to not look like a randy teenager chasing Louis around.

“Hey,” Harry says, lifting his eyebrows at them. “Are we across the hall from you, or...?”

“Dunno. We’re 312,” says Louis.

“We’re 301,” Zayn says, lifting his hand with the keycard in it and shaking his dark hair out of his eyes.

Louis is privately relieved that they won’t all have to listen to each other fuck for the entire night.

“Right,” he says, continuing down the hall with Liam in tow. “Well, get some… sleep.”

Zayn slides his arm around Harry’s waist. “You get some _sleep_ too,” he calls drily after them, leaving no room for polite innuendo.

Harry snorts and quietly admonishes him; Louis can’t hear exactly what he says.

“Manky,” Louis mutters, as a tipsy Liam fumbles with their key card. “It’s one thing for us to be obviously going off to bone, what are they doin’? They didn’t get double married. They didn’t even get married once!”

“Hey, babe,” Liam says, as he pushes him into the room and begins to forcefully disrobe him. “Shut up about Zayn and Harry. Alright?”

“Alright…”

Liam kisses Louis, hard, pushing his tongue into his mouth, and Louis nods, sliding his arms around Liam’s neck. Liam guides him down onto the bed and pulls his trousers off his hips, then his briefs, then begins to lick and suck at his cock.

Louis watches him, greatly content.

“When you're hard, you're bigger than Zayn,” he murmurs, apropos of nothing.

Liam freezes. “What?”

“I’ve never told you that,” Louis says, his voice low with arousal and slurred by liquor, “So many years... I’ve thought about tellin’ you so many times now. Feels better in me, too... I’m just sayin’. I’m drunk. I dunno. Go back to blowin’ me.”

Liam leans an elbow down on the bed, his hand going to his forehead and then smoothing his hair back. He stares at the bed with a complex expression, then squints at nothing in particular.

“I’ve had too much to drink to know what to even say to that,” he says. “I don’t know if I ever needed to know that?”

“‘S a compliment, so take it as one,” Louis says, laughing.

After a moment, Liam begins to laugh too.

“You’re wild,” he says lovingly, shaking his head and repositioning himself over Louis’ cock. “My crazy husband.”

“You _liked_ that!” Louis crows. “That actually got you goin’ a little, didn’t it? Damn, Payno, deep down you’re a freak like the rest of us.”

Liam nuzzles his thighs and bites one, hiding his smile. “Crazy,” he repeats huskily.

“Will you suck your crazy husband’s cock, already?”

Liam needs no further instruction; he’s on Louis even harder than before, taking him deep and looking up at him from under his eyelashes with those dark eyes in a way that makes Louis whine and seize at the bedsheets.

By the end, Liam is practically choking himself on Louis’ cock; his face red, spit and pre-come trailing from his full lips and down his chin. Louis is writhing on the bed, back arched, moaning and begging. He comes with a sigh and a shudder, and Liam swallows all of it, then without further ado flips him over and says in a low, rumbly voice, “I’m going to eat your arse, now, if you’re up for it.”

“ _God,_ ” Louis moans, pressing his face against the soft bedsheets. “God, yes, please, God.”

“Think I can make you come again?” Liam murmurs, kissing the insides of his thighs and the underside of his arse, making him squirm. His lips are still wet with come as he sucks lovebites on Louis’ thighs. “If I’m patient? If I go slow?”

“Fuck,” Louis cries, “fuck, I dunno, maybe --”

Liam lubes up and fingers him open some, first. Louis’ skin tingles and prickles with anticipation for what’s to come.

Liam’s fingers slide back out a mere second before his tongue touches down, and Louis gasps, light-headed from the overstimulation.

“Please, please,” he begs.

Liam’s hand slides up on the bed and starts stroking his spent cock. Louis lets out a desperate whine; he's so sensitive post-orgasm that Liam's touch chafes, but he craves it all the same.

Liam licks his arse in a teasing way, flicking his tongue over it and tormenting Louis by pausing in between. He starts to finger him open again as he licks him, until the ring of muscles inside Louis is clenching, needing a cock, and the insistent throb of his prostate is driving him near-crazy.

Liam really gets into it, then, but it isn't enough. Louis needs something inside of him and he begs Liam to this effect, out of his mind with arousal, half-erect in spite of just having come.

Liam gets up and goes into the bathroom, and Louis is left on the bed in a haze of desperation.

“Fuck me,” he moans, dizzied, “fuck me, come back here, fuck --”

The water runs for a while and stops. Louis whines and writhes against the bed.

“Liam,” he cries.

Liam comes back and pulls Louis into his arms. Louis grinds their bodies together, insistent.

“You're so needy,” Liam laughs, pulling them up the bed. He lies back, hands behind his head, his erect cock free between his thighs.

“You can't _do_ that,” Louis says, accusatory, still hot all over like he's got a fever. “That's fucking mean.”

“I was brushing my teeth,” Liam says, smiling at him. “So we can kiss? How d’you want to be fucked tonight?”

“God,” Louis breathes. “Take me any way you like, I don't care, just fuck me silly.”

Liam seems to appreciate this. He comes toward Louis on the bed and pulls him close with a low noise.

“Any way I like?” he says, and grabs Louis by the hair, shoving him facedown on the bed. Louis grins and shivers with delight.

“What if I just left you here?” Liam says, his voice low, his hand still fisted in Louis’ hair.

“No, no,” Louis cries, rolling his hips against the bed. “Don't you dare. Fuck me, right now.”

“I thought I was in charge, Tommo,” Liam murmurs.

“Only up to a certain point,” Louis snaps back, his head muddled with need.

Liam laughs and spanks him. Louis’ cock throbs.

“Again,” he demands. Liam obliges, and the sting of the smack only makes Louis want him more. He backs his arse up against Liam, against the hardness of him.

“Tell me you haven't thought about fucking me like this all weekend,” Louis purrs. “Tell me you don't still think about it all the time.”

Liam leans in and whispers in his ear, “I have, and I do.”

Then he fists a hand in Louis’ hair again and drags his head painfully back as he shoves his cock into him. Louis moans long and loud with gratitude and satisfaction.

“Want everyone to be jealous of how good we fuck?” Liam murmurs, as he slams into Louis. This is so uncharacteristic of him; Louis feels absolute hedonistic glee, like he's flying down the road double the speed limit. “Want everyone to hear this, huh? Want to not be able to sit down tomorrow? Want me to cover your arse in hickeys and fuck you numb?”

“Yes, yes,” Louis cries in ecstasy, leaning forward on the bed, head against his arms, gripping the sheets as he's shoved up and down by the force of Liam's thrusts. “Yes, everythin’, all of it --”

“Want everyone to know how much you love me and my cock?” Liam says, sounding half-astounded at the things he's saying as he says them.

“YES,” Louis screams, pre-come leaking onto his own thighs. He's getting Liam so deep that he can hardly see straight, all he feels is the wonderful pound of his cock against that pleasure spot within him. “ _Yes_ , yes, yes! God, yes!”

“Holy shit,” Liam says, dazed, and it's clear he's himself again. “I'm about to come, Jesus Christ.”

“Don't,” Louis snarls, “not yet --”

He reaches back for Liam's arm and sinks his nails into his flesh.

“Don't,” he repeats.

“Alright,” Liam agrees, breathless. “Not yet --”

He does pull out of Louis slightly, then, so he can roll his half-limp body over. They gaze with passion and deep love at each other as Liam resumes with fucking the sense out of him.

“Harder,” Louis moans, half-lidded, his voice hoarse from yelling.

“I don't think I can go any harder,” Liam murmurs, getting down on his elbows so he can stroke Louis’ sweaty fringe off his face. “I feel like I'm about to fuck you in half, first off, and I'm old…”

“Harder,” Louis moans, his voice rising in pitch. He isn't quite back in his right mind, yet. He's been here before with Liam, over the years, although Liam doesn't usually alpha up to meet him.

“Babe,” Liam laughs.

He gives a few final powerful thrusts, and then Louis can tell he's come. He lies half on the bed, half on top of Louis, spent.

Louis slowly returns to reality.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.

“I didn't mean any of that shit I said,” Liam says, looking at him worriedly, his face pink. “I didn't want anyone to hear that.”

Louis grins sloppily at him. “Was sort of hopin’ you did,” he says.

“Maybe a little bit,” Liam says cheekily, playing with Louis’ nipple.

“D’you think anyone did?” Louis murmurs.

Liam chuckles. “I think anyone in the next two rooms who didn't hear is deaf or possibly dead.”

“Oh, shit,” Louis says, laughing. “Well, fuck ‘em all, right? Kids are on the first floor with my mum, so who cares?”

“You were screaming so loudly I was actually afraid to keep fucking you,” Liam says to him, kissing his shoulder. He's still inside of him, Louis notes appreciatively.

“I haven't come,” he says, pouty.

Liam makes an apologetic face and reaches down to start jerking him off. Louis closes his eyes, lost in pleasure.

“Payno,” he moans. “I love you so much.”

“Promise to remember this feeling next time it's five in the morning and the security system won't stop going off because I forgot the passcode? Or next time I forget the milk?” Liam says to him, and then pulls out of Louis so he can lean down and kiss over his hipbones, his slim hips and waist, the faded stretch marks low on his stomach and the angry line of his Cesarean scar.

Louis comes into Liam's hand, feeling utterly safe and wrapped in Liam's love. Liam brings him close, then, and they kiss for a while before collapsing in exhaustion in each other's arms.

“Hey,” Louis whispers, right before they fall asleep. “Babe…”

He strokes Liam's hair. Liam dyes it religiously now, but there are a few silver hairs right at his roots.

“What?” Liam says, looking up at him with those sweet eyes Louis loves. Louis smiles at him.

“I don't think we ought to have another baby,” he says, and he feels a powerful clench of sadness in him as he says it.

That must show on his face, because Liam kisses his jaw reassuringly and nuzzles him.

“Whatever you want,” he says, and he sounds a bit sad, himself.

“I just think things are so perfect now,” Louis murmurs. “And we aren’t gettin’ any younger, y’know? Ten years down the line, all I want’s, like, uninterrupted time with you… a baby’s so much work.”

Liam nods. “I understand.”

Louis continues to stroke his hair, lost in thought.

“It sort of got away from us, didn't it?” he says, regretful. “Work, and life, and everythin’... When we first got married, I wanted a house full of your babies.”

Liam looks at him with a bittersweet expression. “I love our kids to death,” he says. “I love everything we’ve got. My life is whole, Tommo, I promise. If yours is too…”

Louis nods. “It really is,” he says, and he feels a sudden rush of dizzying anxiety at realizing how content he is. That the life he's always wanted has arrived, and he's living it.

Liam snuggles up tighter against him.

“I love you too, by the way,” he whispers.

 

*

 

Louis wakes up, aching from being fucked. He hears socializing and pleasantries out in the hall, and dresses quickly, throwing a robe on. He notes with dismay that there’s a hickey on his collarbone.

Out in the hall, Liam is standing next to the room service cart, chatting with Zayn and Harry.

Louis sidles up to him, sliding an arm around his waist. Liam glances fondly over at him and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

Zayn gives him a knowing glance, but he’s looking pretty rumpled and cheerful himself, so Louis gives it right back.

The four of them head down to breakfast together. Zayn and Harry are rather flirty. Louis finds himself feeling less and less strange about that as time goes on.

Breakfast is a raucous affair, full of hungover people. Perrie is on her third mimosa by the time they get down there, and is seated on Kendall’s lap. Mia and Oliver are cloistered away at the kids table with the few other children present, including Heath. Mia is the oldest there, and clearly bored out of her skull. By the time rolls have been passed around, Louis sees a familiar mischievous expression make its way onto her face. He observes her warily.

Mia glances around briefly before shooting a rubber band directly at Harry’s face.

Harry splutters with surprise, and then starts laughing.

“I am buttering a _roll!_ ” he exclaims, mock-indignant. “With a knife! Could have stabbed myself!”

“Wasn’t me!” Mia calls back. “Heath did it!”

“I did _not!_ ” says Heath, incredulous.

“Yas, don’t shoot rubber bands at your Uncle Harry,” Zayn says, boredly, like he’s had to say it before.

“Yeah, cut that out, honey,” Louis says sternly, as he snatches the rubber band up and shoots it at Harry himself. Niall snorts loudly from the other end of the table.

Harry stops buttering his roll and stares at him, the ends of his lips quirking up.

“ _Stop_ ,” he says, half-hearted. “You are thirty-seven years old!”

“Wasn’t me,” Louis says gamely, despite that he’s sitting right next to him.

At this, Liam is barely able to stop himself from spitting up his coffee with laughter. Mia catches Louis’ eye with a grin, and he winks at her.


	43. Chapter 43

LONDON, MAY 8, 2034

It's a miserably humid day out, and Louis has been helping Liam in the back garden for four hours before he skives off to play football with Oliver. Liam protests this loudly.

“Just quit for the day,” Louis calls to him, as he dribbles handily away from Oliver.

“Yeah, just quit, Dad,” Oliver yells.

“This needs to get done,” Liam grumbles, as he stuffs dead underbrush into a large black bin bag.

“Hire someone!”

“Yeah, hire someone, Dad.”

“I could, but the last crew I hired did it totally wrong!”

Louis flaps his hand at him in exasperation, and feints on Oliver for a goal. Oliver groans and tackles his father; they fall back into the grass laughing hysterically.

“You've got to cut that shit out,” Louis admonishes him as they get up, but he’s grinning. “I'm old, I've got a bad back, kiddo.”

“Sorry,” Oliver says, his eyes twinkling.

Liam abandons his work and comes over to help them to their feet, then tries to play keepaway with Oliver. But Oliver is much smaller and faster, and quickly takes the ball off of Liam.

“So Mia’s having that Grant bloke over tonight for dinner?” Oliver says, stopping it with his foot and pushing his fringe from his eyes.

“Right,” Louis says, and tries to take the ball off him. Oliver skillfully hides it.

“You know they're boyfriend and girlfriend, right?” Oliver says, glancing between him and Liam.

Louis didn’t know this, and is utterly surprised. He turns to Liam, who looks equally flabbergasted.

“I thought he was a friend!” Louis says, raising a hand to block the sun and squinting at Oliver.

“Oops,” Oliver says. “Did I blow her spot just now?”

“Please, you _know_ you did,” Liam says in his growly dad voice, and pulls him in for a hug -- then gives him a noogie, making him laugh. “Don't snitch, you're much too old for that.”

Oliver slips out of Liam’s grasp and shrugs innocently. He takes his leave of them, walking back up the hill toward the house.

“Where are you off to?” Louis calls.

“Homework,” he yells back.

Louis and Liam look at each other.

“Video games,” Liam says. Louis nods.

“So…” Liam says, retrieving the ball from where Oliver left it and kicking it back and forth with Louis. “What does this mean, d’you think? She's never wanted us to meet anyone she's dated before.”

“I hope it doesn't mean they're serious,” Louis mutters, full of dread. “She's too young to get serious. She's heading off to uni, you know?”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Liam says firmly. “Let's talk it out with her.”

Something occurs to Louis, then, and he pulls his phone from his pocket, walking away.

“What's up?” Liam calls.

Louis holds up a finger. “I'll be back!”

He rings Zayn. The phone goes for a while, frustrating Louis. Finally, Zayn picks up, and Louis greets him with a sigh.

“Everythin’ alright?” Zayn says, sounding bleary. “I was asleep.”

“It’s the afternoon,” Louis says in confusion.

“Mate,” Zayn says patiently. “I’m in Los Angeles for a few days. I’m at Cannes with Harry, I’m his date to this premiere. Remember?”

“Right, right,” Louis mutters, pushing his hair back. “Sorry. Shit. Want me to let you go?”

“No... I’m awake now, aren’t I?”

Louis watches as Liam goes back to tending the garden, kneeling in the grass, his strong hands ripping up difficult weeds. Sweat runs down his neck and darkens his shirt. He glances over at Louis, exchanges a look with him, and then returns to his work.

“Did you know Mia’s dating her friend Grant?” Louis says, turning away from Liam, facing toward the house.

Zayn’s quiet. “Shit,” he says. “No, I had no idea she was seein’ anybody.”

“Yeah, and she invited him over for dinner tonight. The five of us.”

Then it’s Zayn’s turn to sigh. Louis rolls his sleeves up and puts his hands on his hips.

“Say something,” he urges.

“Dunno,” Zayn says. “She’s eighteen now, what’s there to say?”

“It isn’t _that_ , I know she hasn’t got to keep us informed on everyone she’s dating. I’m not daft.”

“Not daft.” Zayn laughs in a sleepy way. “Overly protective.”

Louis hears someone speaking in the background, and then Zayn covers the phone and mumbles something back. He figures it’s Harry.

“She’s never had us meet anyone before, is all,” Louis continues, ignoring the interruption.

“Maybe he’s special.”

“He oughtn’t be,” Louis exclaims. “She’s leaving for uni in the fall.”

“Just don’t jump to conclusions, Louis,” Zayn says soothingly, the same way he has many times over the years. “Have the dinner, find out more, talk to her. Let me know how it goes.”

“Alright, yeah. Just wanted to see if you knew anythin’. But… yeah. Will do.”

“Good.”

Louis clears his throat. “Well, enjoy Cannes.”

“I am, mate,” Zayn says, softly. “Thanks.”

 

*

 

Louis has met Grant before briefly and likes him; he’s a smart kid, with the sort of bland and boyish handsomeness endemic to the children of the blue-blooded London set that make up most of the population of Mia’s school. He isn’t cursed with wandering hands, he watches Mia with careful interest when she talks, and engages Liam with great enthusiasm about the intricacies of rap production.

Mia watches Louis carefully throughout dinner, as if trying to gauge his feelings toward her boy. He keeps a neutral expression, but halfway through, he’s already decided not to make any attempts to dissuade her. Grant is almost infuriatingly unobjectionable. Even if he wanted to, there’s not a thing he could say without coming across as unreasonable and harsh.

After dinner Mia joins him in the kitchen to help wash dishes, once he gives her their ‘let’s talk in private’ signal, which is to pat Liam on the shoulders and then crook his finger at her.

Oliver notices this and smirks at Mia like she’s about to get in trouble. She thwaps him gently on the head as she follows Louis out.

“No hitting,” Liam interjects smoothly into the middle of his sentence, and then carries on discussing Young Thug’s writing process with a fascinated Grant.

“I can’t believe Oli told you Grant’s my boyfriend,” she says as they enter the kitchen, rolling up her sleeves. “That is so obnoxious. I was going to mention it right when dinner started.”

“Little siblings exist to be obnoxious,” Louis tells her. “I’ll wash, you dry?”

“We could leave this for Yvette to get in the morning,” she points out. “Or at least just put them in the dishwasher?”

“No, it’s good for you to actually do things for yourself, sometimes,” Louis says patiently. “And it gives us a reason to talk.”

Louis squirts some soap into the sink and glances at her. She looks back at him, seeming quite calm, as if she doesn’t anticipate an argument occurring here.

“Why’d you bring him round for dinner?” Louis says, scrubbing a glass out. “You never do that.”

“I don’t _date_ much,” she says, shrugging. “That dumb boyfriend-y thing? People don’t think of me like that.”

“How do they think of you?” Louis says, treading carefully. He hands her a clean dish.

Mia makes a noncommittal gesture, dish in one hand and rag in the other. “They assume things of me, you know that. People who don’t know me are afraid I’m stuck-up, people who do know me think I’m not the dating type. I just sort of let people think whatever they’re going to.”

This sounds familiar to Louis. He’s heard this general sentiment from Zayn in the past.

“What makes Grant different?” he says curiously.

“We were friends first,” she says wearily, setting the dish in the rack. “But that’s sort of the problem as well. And, actually, now my mind’s made up that I’m going to end it.”

Louis blinks at her, caught off-guard. “What? Why? We like him!”

“That’s part of the problem,” she says, laughing. “I was scared he was boring, so I brought him round to see if that was true. And, yeah... he’s boring. You two like him too much. He likes _me_ too much! He’s too nice.”

“Love,” Louis says in exasperation, “those are not problems.”

Mia sighs. “Dad, I’m not… look, shouldn’t you be glad it isn’t serious?”

“I am glad,” he says, turning away from the sink and leaning against it, arms folded. “I don’t like the idea of you having some boy hanging on when you’re off to uni in the fall. You should be able to make a clean start.”

“Yeah, and meet uni people,” she says. “New people.”

“Mmm,” Louis says, his parental anxiety spiking. “Okay -- but nice ones?”

“Have they got to be nice?” she says, exasperated. “Can I not wait until later to find a nice, worthy one? What about just interesting people, people with big ideas, artists? Leeds has got tons of people like that.”

“Nice people are underrated,” Louis says emphatically. “I promise.”

“Dad,” Mia says, and leans against the counter, cocking an eyebrow at him. She looks quite like Zayn when she’s exasperated with him. “I don’t want…”

She bites her lip and pauses.

“I don’t want to meet my husband at eighteen,” she says, gently.

Louis can tell she expects him to maybe be hurt by this, but he isn’t at all.

“Oh, love, no,” he assures her. “How many times have I told you I don’t want you to do things the way I did? That I just got very lucky?”

“And you’re right!” Mia says, quickly. “You were right about holding off on acting, you were right about me finishing my education. And I pulled through well enough, right? So now I’m just thinking -- a nice boy who likes me that much, he’d distract me more than some arsehole who doesn’t want anything serious. I’d maybe compromise for him, and I don’t want to.”

“Alright,” Louis says, hating to admit that she may have a point here. “I see the logic. But I don’t want you dating arseholes.”

Mia rolls her eyes. “You don’t want me dating anyone like Dad, is what you don’t want,” she prods him.

Louis knows immediately that she means Zayn, and not Liam.

“Well,” he says, glancing down and sliding his hands into his pockets. “I mean, yeah. For a long time, your dad was not the easiest person to deal with.”

“I know,” she says, softly. “I do know that now.”

Louis’ heart aches at hearing her say that.

“Hey,” he murmurs, looking up at her. She looks a bit blue and conflicted. “I don’t want you to think, like -- I don’t regret anything that happened. There’s not a single thing I’ve done that I regret less than havin’ you. You know _that_. You’ve always known that. Right?”

Mia nods firmly.

“It isn’t ideal,” she says. “I’m, like, totally aware of that.”

“Good.”

“I don’t want to be a mum at twenty-three, I promise.”

“Heyy,” Louis says, mock-offended. “I was twenty-four, alright?”

He nudges her on the arm playfully, and she laughs.

“Date who you want,” he tells her. “I trust your judgment, I trust your self-esteem. Just keep my voice in the back of your head, please, that’s all a dad can ask. Always, like, eyes open and clear. Don’t take any bad pennies.”

“I’ve got time before uni, you know,” Mia says, grinning. “If you want to run some drills, or something. Take me to a bar and point out the worst alpha creeps for me.”

“Watch out for gold diggers, too, honestly,” he mutters, and gestures for them to start heading back into the dining room. She lets out a peal of laughter. “No, I’m serious, they’ll come after you!”

“What’s so funny?” Grant says, glancing at them as they enter the room. Louis feels a bit sorry for him. He does genuinely like this kid; he’s got an enduring soft spot for the well-intentioned.

“Ah,” Louis says. “Y’know. Life.”

He glances at Liam, who raises an eyebrow at him. Louis will fill him in as soon as they get out of earshot. For now, he just gives him a quick expression that serves as shorthand indicating the necessity for later discussion. Liam nods, his interest clearly piqued.

“Toast,” Oliver says once they're seated, holding up his water. “Congratulations toast to Mia, for getting into the same school that Alt-J went to.”

“Did they really?” she says, clinking her glass against his and laughing. “That’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Also a bloke from Dire Straits,” Liam supplies. “But hey, we don’t do musical snobbery here, because, you know, don’t throw stones in a glass house your boyband paid for.”

Louis and Mia both snort appreciatively at this.

“Dire Straits weren’t _bad_ , honestly,” Grant says, spreading his hands as if he expects an objection. He and Liam leap into a general conversation of 70s bands that originated in Deptford.

Mia watches them, amused fondness on her face.

Louis watches her, trying to push away thoughts of her absence in the house when she leaves for uni. He placates himself by glancing over at Oliver, who's eating his dessert in a very decisive and deliberate way that reminds him of Liam, and a smile crosses his lips.


	44. Chapter 44

UNIVERSITY OF LEEDS, MAY 14, 2038

“Howie Thompson…!”

A burly, ginger young man crosses the stage. As he steps forward, he reveals Mia, who is pale with nerves under her olive complexion. Her inky dark hair falls in soft waves under her cap and over the several medals and cords she wears over her graduation robes. She spots Louis and makes eye contact with him, grinning widely and wrinkling her nose at him. She’s got his nose, right in the middle of her face. Louis feels an unbelievable, sweeping, grand love for her, and his eyes begin to tear up again. He clears his throat.

“Mia Tomlinson, magna cum laude...!”

A massive cheer goes up from the front row where they’re all seated. Liam, Jay and Lottie all leap to their feet in the grass cheering, and shouts go up from the audience from Mia’s friends as well. Louis stays seated and just claps loudly; Mia is clearly mortified enough by all the attention as she crosses the stage, she doesn’t need him whooping at her.

Zayn also claps while remaining seated. He and Louis glance at each other, sharing a knowing look. Zayn may be in his forties, but he’s still too cool for certain things. To Zayn’s left, Harry gives a long whistle.

“That’s our girl!” Jay shouts as Mia takes her diploma and poses for a photo. Her face is bright red, but she’s grinning.

Oliver leans over to whisper in Louis’ ear. “What does magna cum laude mean, what’s the marks for that?”

“Not sure exactly, lad,” Louis says back.

“It depends, but she ended up with first-class honours,” Zayn informs Oliver.

“Shit,” Oliver comments, impressed. Louis laughs. Oliver has grown into a lean, wiry young man; tough as nails but fast on his feet, the best scrum-half on his school rugby team.

“She barely squeaked out those three A-levels, y’know?” he says to Zayn. “Really got her act together in uni.”

Zayn shrugs. “Sometimes it just takes a while for things to click.”

Louis looks over at Liam, who gazes warmly back at him, his eyes a bit teary. Louis finds himself getting choked up at the very sight.

Liam reaches across Jay to grab his husband’s hand, and they share in a quiet moment of immense pride.

 

 

*

 

When graduation has wound down and Mia has taken the requisite photos with all of her friends, their entire party straggles out to the grassy quad and stands around, making plans, congratulating the graduate and chatting idly. Louis walks a ways away to go have a smoke under a tree, and observes his blended family as he does.

Zayn and Harry stand off to the side, talking with Zayn’s parents and his sisters. Harry holds their daughter Cala, a Palestinian girl they adopted several years ago, after her citizen journalist parents were both killed when she was just a baby. A few months after they took her in, Louis had wondered aloud to Harry if he had ever wanted biological children with Zayn. He'd tried to sound nonchalant about it, tried not to let on that watching Zayn dote on a pregnant Harry had been a deep, primal fear of his for a while. 

Harry had just shrugged.

“I love kids,” he said, simply. “I’ve always wanted kids… But I dunno if I ever really needed to get pregnant, so much. It’s just nice to have little feet in the house.”

In spite of their daughter, Zayn and Harry still aren’t married, which has prompted the rags to start referring to them as the ‘30s UK answer to Brangelina. They both hate this, but resolutely ignore it.

Oliver wanders over to the Malik consortium and joins their conversation. Oliver has an easier relationship with Harry than Mia does; he harbors no ill will toward him, while Mia still sometimes finds it difficult to see Zayn being so doting with another man when she remembers the fights he had with Louis throughout her childhood. Louis had hoped she wouldn’t, but she and Zayn remain close regardless; they’re too alike not to be. They share a certain enigmatic soulfulness that lets them bond over the most silent of pursuits; practicing Islam, painting sprawling murals on random walls of his house, hiking when she visits him in Los Angeles.

Mia glances over at Louis, now, and excuses herself from the tight circle of Paynes and Tomlinsons. Liam reaches over and hugs her again, whispering something in her ear. She grins and whispers something back, and he laughs and pats her on the shoulder before sending her off to Louis.

“Dad,” Mia says as she approaches him, her voice emotional. Louis drops his cigarette and grinds it into the grass.

Mia takes her cap off and stows it under her arm, then hugs him, hard. He wraps his arms around her, and blinks back the tears gathering in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Mia says, choked up, and then he does start crying a bit.

“Thank _you_ ,” he whispers back.

“No, no no,” she says, laughing through her tears, “don’t do that! Don’t, I swear…”

Louis squeezes her, hard, and she squeezes him back. He kisses her on the head.

“You did such a good job, love,” he whispers. “You’ve worked so hard to get here. I know it wasn’t always easy…”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she says, drawing back from him, her light eyes -- _his_ light eyes, in her face -- bright with tears. “I mean, Liam too, of course, how patient he always was, all the help he gave me, it means the world, but…”

Mia sniffles, and Louis digs in his pocket for a tissue to hand her.

“You kicked my arse,” she says, with a bit of a chuckle. “You understood me when nobody else did. You made sure I took pride in myself and what I did, and that I didn’t let anybody else tell me who I was, and you protected me. It’s been everything, Daddy… you made me who I am. I know it wasn’t always easy for you, either…” She glances down, fiddling with the end of one of her cords.

Louis looks away from her, tears streaming down his face, now.

“Havin’ you was one of the best things I ever did,” he chokes out. “You know how much I love you, right?”

She sniffles and embraces him again. “I love you, too.”

They stand there in the warm spring day, hugging for a good while. Louis hears footsteps, and he looks up. Zayn has come to them.

“Quit hogging her,” he says lightly.

Mia laughs in a bittersweet way, and she eagerly brings Zayn in on the hug. They all stand there for a moment; the family that could have been and never quite was.

“Are you all headed back?” Mia asks him, clearing her throat and pulling her cap back on.

With one arm around Louis, still, Zayn shakes his head. “We’ll join you for lunch, if you’d like.”

Mia smiles. “I’d love that. So how’s Cala been?”

“Great, fantastic. School’s a snap for her so far, she’s brilliant…”

Louis gives them their privacy and heads back toward the main group. Liam grins at him and wraps his arm around his waist. Louis leans into his comforting presence, his head against Liam’s shoulder.

“So,” Lottie says, “I was just askin’ Liam -- and he doesn’t know the answer either -- what does one do, exactly, having studied political science and theater, except be a very entertaining MP?”

Louis shrugs. “Whatever she likes,” he says, laughing. “Can’t tell that one what to do. She’s a law unto herself.”

“And that’s exactly what I said,” Liam tells him. Louis grins.

“But what is Oli interested in, these days?” Geoff says, and they all look over at him. He’s talking animatedly with Harry, gesturing the same way Louis does when he’s excited. His light brown hair shines russet in the sunlight.

“He’s the writer,” Louis says proudly. “Not like, any music so far, but…”

“Right, he’s got those mystery short stories,” Jay says. “I love those! I’ve got one in my study. The ending freaked Dan right out, it did. He didn’t see it coming at all.”

“And he’s quite into sports,” Liam contributes. “And, y’know. Other sixteen-year-old boy things. He likes to code a bit, he likes to tinker.”

“It’d be nice if they could combine their talents, like me an’ Louis,” Lottie says. “Mia can be the next John Gielund… Oli can write the plays for her…” She laughs. “Louis can manage them both, and I’ll do the makeup! It’s perfect.”

Fizzy chuckles.

“Whatever they want,” Liam says, smiling. “We aren’t picky.”

The sun is lower in the sky before everyone present begins to make their way to the car park, not even having scratched the surface on all of the catching-up they need to do. Louis shouts to everyone that he’s rented out an entire floor at Mia’s favorite restaurant for the afternoon, and there’s a genial cheer in response.

Louis quickly shoots off a text to Niall, asking if he’ll be able to make lunch; he had a late-morning flight into Heathrow from Dublin with Barbara and their son Jimmy. Niall texts back immediately, _fuck yea! we might be a bit late, but have a pint waitin_

Mia stumbles on the pavement in her heels, and several of her cords slide from her shoulders; Oliver makes a crack at her expense, but kneels to help her pick them up and gently sets them back on top of her stole. She thanks him, then socks him in the shoulder for making fun of her.

“Time to celebrate me!” Mia shouts, as she, Oliver and her parents all pile into their Range Rover.

This pronouncement is met with whoops and whistles from the Tomlinsons, as well as Harry. Louis looks over at his husband and smiles.

“We did good,” he mouths.

Liam beams back at him, and takes his hand again, squeezing it.

“That’s why we’re the dream team,” he sings, and starts the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want more of this i am writing more of this! rn i'm doing a fic that encompasses the lilo wedding and Zayn's Lost Summer, so heavy on the lilo, the zarry and the angst. just subscribe to the series if you want to know when that gets posted http://archiveofourown.org/series/499807


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